Doc's Dilemma
by ladybrit
Summary: A little drama and adventure but most of this is devoted to Doc Adams whose skills are constantly in demand because he is the only Doctor within a hundred miles of Dodge City The very nature of his profession sets him apart from even his closest friends and when he thinks his skills are not up to the task in hand, he has to handle his own emotions before he can help others.
1. Chapter 1

June 2014

**Doc's Dilemma**

_Towards the end of season 5 there is an episode called I Thee Wed. There is a scene where Doc is listening to Matt's chest for some reason not fully explained. He tells Matt, "I don't understand how anybody could take a bullet that close to the lung and 6 months later not even have a wheeze to show for it. You must have a very fine physician."_

This is what happened 6 months earlier. It is also a sequel to Lawman.

Chapter 1

The first chill of fall was in the air as the two lawmen rode silently side-by-side. They had left Dodge at first light and already the town was about twenty miles behind them. For both men silence was a natural condition so, even though they had much to discuss, very few words had been spoken. They both stared ahead, each locked in very separate worlds, but at the same time forced to share the one they had just lived through.

By noon the sun was high in the sky and the air much warmer. They stopped by a small creek to shed trail coats and share a sparse lunch while the horses rested. With a minimal dialog of words a small fire was built and a pot of coffee prepared while each man sat silently chewing on dried beef jerky waiting for the brew to boil.

By evening they had covered more than half the distance to Garden City and stopped to make an overnight camp at a spot both knew well. The horses had been watered and tethered for the night and two rabbits that Doug had shot were roasting over a small fire. The occasional crackle from the firewood was accompanied by hissing sounds as grease from the cooking meat fell into the flames, causing the smell of the roast to permeate the air. The men were hungry and for Matt the taste of fresh caught meet cooked over a campfire was the best supper in the world. He thought about some of the meals Kitty had prepared for him, they were special too, but then there was more to those treasured memories than food alone. Just being in her company, feeling the warmth of her touch and watching the expression in her eyes, was something he missed when he was out here. Those two parts of his life seemed so distant from each other, there was no way to unite them. The images of Kitty made him wonder how Doug was holding up. He could see the other man was deep in thought; maybe he should get him to talk about it.

"I'm sorry things finished up the way they did Doug," he started  
"Don't apologize Matt. I know none of this was your fault, I'm just grateful you stuck by me like you did or I wouldn't be here now. Gina is a good woman but I should never have subjected her to the loneliness of being married to a lawman, then none of this would have happened."

"You can't blame yourself, she knew what she was taking on." Matt leaned over and reached for a stick to stir the fire a little. There wasn't much wood left now and it was mostly just the bones and other scraps left over from their meal that kept the fire glowing.

He thought again about Kitty. She knew first hand the dangers of being in any way involved with a lawman and as far as he knew she accepted them as the reason he did not want to marry and have a family. He wondered sometimes why she waited for him, waited for what she called 'that far off someday', but he had told her about it from the beginning, from the very first time they had shared a bed, so she had to understand.

Doug had started undoing his bedroll and spreading it on the ground.

"Do you think you'll ever get married Matt?"

The question took the marshal somewhat by surprise. It was something part of him wanted: a wife, a home, maybe even a family. He looked away from the fire for a minute and saw the crescent moon rising above a nearby grove of cottonwood trees. There was still something he felt when he was out here. He didn't know what it was but he enjoyed being alone. A small fire and a simple meal of fresh caught meat was all he needed. Could he ever adjust to living a settled life? Pleasant as the thought of coming back to Kitty every night was, would he really be happy?

"Matt you never answered my question."

Dillon came slowly back to the present

"No I didn't, did I?" He voice was distant, like he was still thinking on it. Then suddenly he shook his head, as if to clear it, "We'd best turn in and get some sleep, I think we have a few busy days ahead."

"I miss her, Matt. In spite of everything she did I still love that woman and would take her back tomorrow if I could. Don't you miss Kitty when you are out here on the trail?"

Dillon grunted some inaudible reply as he undid his bedroll and set his saddle as a pillow. As far as he was concerned, these were not topics for discussion, even with friends. Yes, he knew in his heart that he did miss her presence, but out here on the prairie, alone, he could find a deep quiet that brought a peace to his soul that nothing could replace. Somehow in his mind the two sides of him were mutually exclusive. He just needed to find a way to keep both.

He was quite comfortable and the saddle blanket made a good cover to protect against the approaching chill of the night air, but his mind was unsettled now. His friend's questions had struck a part of him that he did not fully understand and generally avoided facing. Sleep did not come easily to Matt Dillon that night.

xxx

He would have been even more restless if he had known that the morning before Doug and he left town, two cowboys went to the livery in Dodge, tacked up their mounts and headed west towards Garden City. Art Fox and Pete Trammel had just lost out on a pocket full of money. Johnny Halstead had offered to pay them to stir up feeling in the town against City Marshal Hamilton, but their first encounter with Matt Dillon had scared them off. After all it had not been a lot of money - certainly not enough to tangle with that particular United States Marshal. For a while it looked like everything was going to be all right because Hamilton got convicted of murder and was going to hang anyway. Somehow at the last minute Dillon had arrested Johnny Halstead and now it was he who he was in the jail along with Hamilton's pretty wife, and the City Marshal had been exonerated. That made their chances of getting any money here in Dodge non existent since neither of them had much of a penchant for real work. Luckily they heard that the two lawmen were going to head to Garden City and arrest Elton Etheridge. After careful thought they came up with the idea that the little banker might be willing to pay to keep himself out of jail

xxx

Earlier in the evening in Garden City, Elton Etheridge was getting ready for a big poker game in the back room gambling parlor of the Aces Wild Saloon. . He had four high stakes players coming in tonight and hoped he could find one to two more men with deep pockets to sweeten the pot.

His dealer was a very experienced man and could manipulate the cards like no one he had ever seen. Of course he had to pay the man for that level of skill, but it still left a worthwhile take for the house. He always provided plenty of whisky together with several pretty saloon girls to serve it, that way there was some degree of distraction going on throughout the game.

Having checked that several "new" sealed decks of cards were available, and that the drinks and cigars were replenished from the night before, he made his way out to the main saloon.

He had heard nothing from Halstead and could only hope that everything had gone as planned. He had even heard rumors that the City Marshal had been convicted and was set to go to a hanging.

Business was good that evening and the bar was crowded. Now that Hamilton was out of the way he could stay open as long as he liked, he could even increase the price he charged for whisky. Just a small increase would bring in a lot more money if things continued to be as busy as they were now. Times were definitely looking up.

Hackett was behind the bar trying to keep up with all the demands for beer and whisky. The man seemed overworked but it never occurred to Elton Etheridge to roll up his sleeves and help. Instead he was thinking about the future of Garden City. They certainly needed a lawman of some type, but not a man like Hamilton. He thought about offering the job to Jed Bowman. Admittedly the boy was barely 20 years old, but at least that would give him a chance to mold the young man into the type of law he wanted in this town.

Etheridge noticed two scruffy cowboys sitting drinking at one of the tables. They had been watching him for some time now. Eventually one of them came up to the bar to talk to him.

'You're Etheridge, right?"

He looked at the unshaven, disheveled creature that had approached him. "I don't see why that should concern you," he said pulling himself up to his full height and trying to look down his nose at the man who was a good four inches taller than he was.

"Oh you'll be concerned all right. I have some news from Dodge City."

Etheridge looked at the man with renewed interest. "Did someone give you a message for me?"

"Not exactly, come and sit down with me and my friend over there," he indicated the table with a nod of his head, "we can maybe save you from a lot of trouble, if it's worth our while of course."

" I don't see why Dodge City should concern me." Etheridge started to turn away from the unsavory individual.

"There's a pair of lawmen headed this way - we thought that might be of interest to you."

Etheridge stopped suddenly and looked back at the man who had been standing next to him.

"What would that have to do with me?" His voice was a little less certain now.

" Like I said, come and sit down and we'll talk about it."

Reluctantly he followed the man to a small table where another equally unkempt individual was sitting. A pair of saddle bums that's all these men were.  
"Sit down," ordered the first man as he pushed a glass towards the banker and poured a shot of whisky into it.

"Here try some of your own rot gut."

Etheridge looked at the liquid in disgust. This stuff was all right for undiscerning cowboys, but his own personal supply was of much finer quality.

The first man was speaking again.

"I think Johnny Halstead is a friend of yours. He's not doing so well at the moment."

"Why are you telling me this? I don't even know the man, he's certainly not a friend of mine."

"That United States Marshal is very clever. He pinned the murder of the bounty hunter on Halstead. He's got him and that pretty wife of your City Marshal's in the jail. Reckons he can prove they were the killers, not Hamilton."

"I don't see why that should interest me."

"From what I heard, that Marshal got your friend Johnny to sign a full confession. The way I understand it your name is mentioned in there a time or two." The man made a sly grin as he spoke and revealed a row of half rotten teeth.

Etheridge had a hard time not letting panic show on his face. He had already experienced the resourcefulness of Dillon and knew that he wouldn't stand much of a chance if that particular big hand of the law came down on him.

The cowboy watched Etheridge for a moment or two before continuing.

"He's on his way here now, with that man Hamilton. I'd say that both of them have a pretty big grudge to settle with you."

The little banker was becoming flustered and his face had attained a rare shade of red. He looked at the two drifters in front of him with a little less certainty.

"I don't know why you'd say that, I didn't have anything to do with it."

The cowboy looked at his friend and gave the slightest nod.

"Well I guess we were mistaken. We were only trying to be of help, but if you don't need us we best be leaving." The two men pushed back their chairs and began to rise to their feet.

"Wait a minute, maybe, that is..what kind of help did you have in mind?"

The two men sat down again. Etheridge looked around to see if they were likely to be overheard. Fortunately the place was so noisy now that unless someone stood right over them, they would not be able to hear a word of the conversation. No one seemed to be interested in this unlikely threesome anyway.

"Maybe we could stop those two lawmen, give them something else to think about while you disappear for a while."

"I can't do that, I have a bank to run." Etheridge started to leave.

"It wouldn't be so easy for you to run that bank from jail would it? That Marshal will have you locked away in the state prison before you know it."

"He can't prove anything against me."

The man who had been speaking drained his whisky glass and motioned to his friend.

"I guess all our good intentions were for nothing then, sorry we wasted your time. We'll be staying over at the Hotel across the street for a few days if you change your mind."

'Fools' Etheridge thought to himself as he watched them leave. As if he would believe a story like that. He valiantly dismissed the incident from his mind. He had seen two of his high stakes gamblers enter the saloon and hurried over to introduce himself and show them to the back room.

xxx

The evening had been a very profitable one for Etheridge and he almost forgot the warning from the two cowboys. It was the following day around noon when he left the bank and was on his way to get lunch at the only decent restaurant in town when he saw them. Two men on horseback were entering town from the eastern end of Walnut Street. One of them he instantly recognized as Dillon - that interfering United States Marshal, the other was Hamilton. He looked around for a place to hide and ducked into the hardware store in which, incidentally, he owned a small interest. He watched them ride by and then headed along to the hotel. Maybe he should consider the offer from those two saddle tramps, a little help in hiding low for a few days would not be amiss.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Doc's Dilemma**

Chapter 2

Dillon and Hamilton took their time breaking camp that morning. They only had a two to three hour ride into Garden City so there was no sense in hurrying. Matt's idea had been to arrive before the town was awake, arrest Etheridge and head back to Dodge, but Doug had other ideas. He was not normally a vindictive person, but the little banker had been the source of all the City Marshal's troubles. Not only did he have the whole town convinced that Hamilton had murdered the bounty hunter and stolen the reward money, but Doug felt rightly or wrongly, that the problems with Gina could be at least partly attributed to the town leader's actions. The fact that he had been tried, found guilty and sentenced to hang as a result of Etheridge's scheming also weighed heavily on him, but it was the loss of his beautiful Gina that really stirred his hatred. He wanted the whole town to see him arrest his accuser, he wanted everyone to know that he was an honest lawman not some cheap money hungry killer. He didn't really want his job back as City Marshal, but he did want people to know that in general lawmen were there to protect them from killers and robbers, not to take part in such unlawful activities. He wanted to make it easier for the next person who was going to take the job.

Several people acknowledged their City Marshal as he rode by. It seemed they had all but forgotten the time, a few weeks ago, when they had been only too ready to lynch him. He bore them no grudge, knowing all too well how easily Etheridge and his hired hand Halstead had manipulated them.

He led the way to his old office only to find the door locked and the shades pulled down over the windows. He was not deterred and with a deft manipulation of the heavy brass lock, got it to open. He looked briefly around his old office then went to each window in turn and raised the blinds so as to let the bright light from outside sweep in. There was fine layer of dirt and dust accumulated on the desk, which he waved off with his hat.

"Come on in Matt, have a seat and let me fix you some coffee."

The men sat drinking the freshly made brew, both feeling more comfortable than on the time of Matt's previous visit.

"How do you want to do this Doug? I figure it's your choice."

"I'm going to walk along to the bank and arrest that little upstart, right there in his office, then lock him in my jail overnight and tomorrow we'll take him back to Dodge so he and Halstead can stand trial together."

Matt could hear the strain in his friend's voice. He knew that trying those two men posed no problem for Doug; it was what he wanted, but what about Gina? Could he handle that? How deeply was she really involved? He knew she had tried to mislead him as far as evidence was concerned, but Johnny Halstead had carried out the killing and robbery under Etheridge's guidance, no one could be sure how much influence she had had over that. Luckily those things would be for the judge and jury to sort out, his only responsibility was to bring all those concerned to the courtroom at the appropriate time. He had gone so far as to suggest to Hamilton that the trial could easily be transferred too Hays if he would rather, but the man had just shook his head and said he planned to finish what was already started.

It was about half an hour since they had arrived and Doug was just thinking of walking along to the bank when the door opened and Jed Bowman entered with a big smile on his face.

"Nice to see you back Mr. Hamilton." The young man crossed the room and enthusiastically held out his hand. "Somehow I couldn't believe you did the things they were saying."

The ex City Marshal took the offered hand. He bore no malice towards the youngster. Etheridge had managed to sway the thinking of many people much older and supposedly wiser than Jed Bowman and the young man had helped to save his life and for that he was grateful.

xxx

Etheridge watched from the safety of the hardware store as the two lawmen rode by. He waited until they were well inside the City Marshal's office then hurried across the street, hoping he would not be seen. He tried to appear calm and casual as he entered the hotel, he didn't want the whole town to know that the law was after him. By some measure of luck one of those saddle tramps he so despised was sitting there in the lobby, casually reading the local newspaper. The man looked up and Etheridge signaled with his eyes that he wanted to talk. The man understood and with a brief nod got up from the chair he had been occupying and headed for the stairs. The Banker followed.

Art Fox and Pete Trammel were not the kind of men to take on a regular job. Working everyday for a low rate of pay was not on their agenda. Art was a reasonably good poker player but once or twice he had been caught cheating so it was getting more difficult for him to get in on a good game. Pete had very few natural skills but he was good with his fists and competent with a gun, not really fast enough to earn a living as a gunslinger, but he didn't mind killing for money. His preference was not to face his target man to man, but to kill from ambush. He was a reasonably good shot - especially with a rifle.

The three men sat around a very small table in room number 22. Art was the better negotiator and wanted to know how much Etheridge was prepared to pay for his freedom.

The Banker felt he had already paid out far too much money to Halstead and had not seen any benefit as yet. He had been smart though. Once Halstead and that Marshal's wife, Gina, had left for Dodge he went and visited the little house on the edge of town. He was pretty sure that the bounty money was hidden there somewhere, it had taken him several hours but he had found it buried beneath some bales of hay in the small lean-to intended as shelter for horses. He prided himself that he could "smell" money and with a sense of achievement threw the saddlebags under he seat of his buggy and headed back to town. The following day he arrived at the bank early and placed the money in the safe. Who would think of looking for it there? Even if it was discovered, there was nothing suspicious about a bundle of money being in a bank safe. At the time he figured he had just earned himself an additional twenty-five hundred dollar bonus, but now this man wanted part of that money.

"Just how do you intend to keep those two lawmen away from me? I've had dealings with Dillon already and I don't want to repeat the experience." Etheridge thought back to exhuming the bounty hunters grave. It had totally ruined the expensively tailored suit he'd been wearing at the time.

"I have an idea," Art told him, "but the way I see it we are taking all the risks. It's your neck that's in a noose already, so you've got nothing to lose."

The thought of a noose would loosen the pockets of any man.

"I have a thousand dollars I'll give you if you help me escape, but I won't hand over a penny of it until I am a free man."  
Art got up from the table as he spoke and went to the window. He had been chewing a wad of tobacco and spat into a nearby container. Etheridge shuddered at the uncouth behavior and wondered how on earth he had got himself in a position where he had to deal with men like these.

"The way me and Pete see it, Dillon and Hamilton are planning to take you back to Dodge, probably tomorrow. Just load up the money and take it with you - tell them you are returning it or something. Just before you get into the town of Cimarron we'll free you from those lawmen and take you down the trail to Texas - from there you can cross into Mexico if you want."

Of course Art Fox was not intending to take Elton Etheridge anywhere, once they had got rid of those lawmen they would kill the little banker and take his money. No one would ever be the wiser and certainly no one would be looking for them. Pete was a good shot with that Sharp's .50 rifle. He should have no trouble picking off two lawmen and one Banker somewhere along the road back to Dodge City.

xxx

Matt was surprised when Elton Etheridge volunteered to return the ransom money. Hamilton had gone by himself to the bank and arrested its owner late that afternoon. He escorted his prisoner, carrying the sac with the money in it, back to the jail.

"Maybe he thought it would go easier on him if he brought the money with him to the trial," Doug surmised.

Matt was not so sure, he didn't really think that the little man had had such a dramatic change of heart, but he merely nodded in reply and said "Maybe."

They left Garden City early next morning. Young Jed Bowman wanted to join them saying he had heard a lot about Dodge City and wanted to see it for himself. Also he admitted that the two lawmen had impressed him and he wanted the chance to ride with them.

Doug Hamilton got some satisfaction out of putting the handcuffs on Etheridge and telling him to mount up. The little man usually rode in a buggy - he actually owned quite a fancy one with comfortable seats - so Hamilton took pleasure in making him ride horseback to Dodge. They weren't far out of town before he relented somewhat and removed the cuffs knowing that the little banker did not pose much of a threat to the two lawmen.

The small party was quite spread out with Matt in the lead and Doug riding alongside Etheridge. Jed was bringing up the rear, generally keeping an eye out for any trouble.

They made camp that night just west of the town of Cimarron, and cooked a meager meal of beans and beef jerky. Matt hardly ever slept when he was escorting a prisoner and, even though Hamilton was around, he only rested. Something about the banker's attitude did not quite make sense to him and as usual he listened to the warning that sixth sense gave him and dozed with one hand on his rifle.

At first light they broke camp quickly and started the remaining five hour ride into Dodge. Matt still had an uneasy feeling and took to riding on ahead and then circling back to make sure no one else was around. He found nothing but remained alert. They were about two hours from Dodge when it happened. They were in an open area with very little cover, but out of nowhere there came the loud report of a rifle. Hamilton watched as his friend the Marshal fell to the ground. Somehow Dillon managed to grab his pistol from its holster and fire at the place where the flash had been, as he went down.

Hamilton was enough of a lawman to secure his prisoner first and so by the time he got to Dillon there was a big red stain blossoming on the left side of his shirt. He squatted down beside the fallen man as a second blast shook the area.

"I'll be all right," Dillon managed to say, "Go find who bushwhacked us."

Another shot rang out, but again it went wide and sounded like a pistol rather than the rifle that had fired first two.

"I'm gonna get you into some cover first, can you stand?"

He looked around and other than a few small rocks off to the right the only other protection was two dead tree stumps intertwined at the edge of the trail ahead. He called back to Bowman, pointing to the only cover he could find. "Bring the prisoner over here and bring the Marshal's horse."

Somehow with the aid of Hamilton and one hand clasped firmly across his chest, Matt made it to the old gnarled tree stumps and Bowmen joined them with Etheridge and the horses.

Hamilton eased his friend to the ground so that he could rest against what remained of the dead trees. He took a bandana from his pocket and gently opened Matt's shirt. The wound was bad and he knew it. "Here," he put the folded piece of cloth in Dillon's hand and guided it to the wound, "Try and press on that, I'm going to see what happened."

Jed Bowman stood watching, gun drawn and eyes searching the landscape. Hamilton looked at him. "I'm glad you came along. Watch him," he added indicating their prisoner.

Then he turned, got back on his horse and took off towards the place where the first shot had come from.

xxx

Matt was only aware of pain. The bullet felt like it was burning its way through his chest. He barely heard the short exchange of gunfire in the distance, and was even less aware when Hamilton returned with one body slung across a saddled horse and a disheveled cowboy handcuffed on the back of a second.

"How far is it into Dodge, Mr. Hamilton?" Bowman asked

"Probably about two hours at the rate we have been traveling," Doug replied squatting down beside his friend once more. One look told him there was no way the man was going to be able to ride for ten minutes let alone two hours. He needed help now.

"Jed, I'm swearing you in as a deputy, we'll make it official when we get to Dodge. Meantime you're going to have to ride on into town, get Doc Adams if you can, and tell the livery we'll need a wagon. If you hurry you can get there in an hour and maybe be back here in less than three.

xxx

Jed Bowman had left and Hamilton was questioning the cowboy he had just taken prisoner. It seemed that Dillon's single shot had been accurate and his partner who had fired the rifle was dead. This man's name was Art Fox - the dead man was Pete Trammel and yes they had been after the money. In a way Hamilton felt sorry for the man, he was just a small time crook who got in over his head. Neither of the two had ever been successful enough as outlaws to make it to the wanted posters.

He spent a short time checking that both his prisoners where secured, then went to check on Matt. The big lawman looked very pale and was barely conscious. He didn't want to move him much, unsure of what damage the bullet had done already. He lifted the canteen to his friend's lips so he could take a little water, then sat down beside him to wait.

xxx

Jed rode hard and got to Dodge in just under the hour Hamilton had predicted. He easily found the livery stable and told the old man there that he needed to borrow a wagon to bring the Marshal back to town. He was hurt and needed the Doctor.

"Doc went out a few hours ago to see a patient east of town, he won't be back for a while, but I'll tell him when he gets here." Moss was worried, should he go down to the Long Branch and tell Miss Kitty that Marshal Dillon had been hurt? He decided he would, once he had got the wagon hitched up and this young man on his way.

xxx

It was late afternoon by the time the wagon arrived back in town, Doc had been watching for them to arrive and was already waiting at the foot of the stairs leading up to his office as they pulled up. He had Sam from the Long Branch and another man there to help get the Marshal up the steps, which was just as well because his friend was more or less unconscious by this time. Hamilton turned his two prisoners over to Chester and asked him and Jed to take them to the jail so he could help with Dillon.

Doug was not surprised to see Kitty waiting in Doc's office as they carefully placed the injured Marshal on the well-worn operating table.

"I'll be back in a while," he told her, "I need to go check on my prisoners now, but I'll be around as long as I'm needed."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Doc's Dilemma

Chapter 3

Being the only physician within a hundred miles or more, Galen Adams rarely had the opportunity to sit and discus the latest surgical techniques, medical papers or even the weather with others of his profession. His position made him privy to many secrets that haunted some of Ford County's notable inhabitants, but they were for him alone to know. He would never divulge things he learned during the course of his professional services, even though sometimes it was difficult to decide what was best for the common good. Some things, like bullet wounds and certain infectious diseases, he was legally bound to report to the Marshal, that line was very clearly drawn but there were always cases that blurred the line a little and then it became a tough decision for him to make. Somehow the knowledge that came along with his profession set him apart from others and isolated him in his own world, burdened with his own thoughts.

The oil lamp sitting on the top of his desk gave a yellowish glow to the journal he was reading. So many of the papers he read interested him, but had nothing at all to do with most of what his work consisted of. Take the man in the next room for instance. He had been there for 3 days now. There was nothing in this journal about removing bullets embedded so tightly to the lung, nor anything in the two previous editions he had read either. According to the only paper he could find on the subject, the man in the next room should have stopped breathing several hours ago. There wasn't even anything new regarding medication for controlling fever. He needed something because everything he had tried so far had failed. He had written several letters to surgeons and physicians he knew in some of the more prestigious medical centers back east, just in case there was some new technique or medicine that he was not aware of. He didn't hold out much hope for positive replies, but would leave no stone unturned.

The onus was squarely on his shoulders now and there was no one he could turn to for help. He was at the top of the pyramid trying to give support and comfort to everyone else, but keeping the hard truth to himself. If this patient died it was solely his responsibility, he would be the one to accept the blame. The fact was that this man meant more to him than a patient who just needed his skills, this was his one true friend. They always said physicians should not treat family, ostensibly for the good of the patient, but that worked both ways. It was always bad to lose a patient, but to lose a friend – that was far worse.

He heard noises from the other room. They were getting louder,

"Doc!" He was being called. "Doc, I think I need some help here."

The big man had been very restless; his fever was rising despite the cool cloths and, when available, the ice packs they had been using.

Adams got up wearily from his desk. He had hardly closed his eyes during the previous seventy-two hours and sleep had certainly not come his way. As a result he knew he was not as alert as he should be.

Kitty was still where she had been ever since they brought him in. Day and night she had stayed by the bed where Matt Dillon was lying, refusing to leave despite the physicians orders and cajoling. He knew she hadn't slept much either.

He opened the door quietly. She was sitting on the bed, one elegantly manicured hand was encompassing the big calloused palm of the Marshal. In the other hand she held a cloth stained with red.

"Doc?" she looked up at him holding the blood stain so he could see it. "This isn't right is it?"

"What happened?" Doc asked already knowing the answer.

"He had a coughing spell and then this." She raised the blood stained cloth once more to show him, but he had seen it already and his stomach suddenly felt as if it would rise into his throat.

Her blue eyes were looking straight at him, begging for assurance that all would be well. He could see the shadows under her eyes and the redness where she had been crying.

"It's to be expected, Kitty," he managed to say, "we just don't know what kind of damage that bullet did."

He reached for his stethoscope that had been left lying on the small table by the window. It wasn't going to tell him anything new, but doing something was better than standing uselessly by.

He sat gently on the far side of the bed from her and felt for the marshal's other wrist. Opening his pocket watch he counted the rhythm of the man's pulse. Even after everything the man had been through, its beat was reasonably strong and regular. He replaced the watch in its usual resting place and using his fingers gently percussed the man's chest. Amazingly both sides were still resonant except for an area at the base of the left lung. He thought there was a small amount of fluid there but tried to ignore it and keep the hope alive that the lung had only been bruised and not punctured by the bullet he had painstakingly extracted.

He placed the stethoscope in his ears and listened. There were good breath sounds on the right, but as expected, at the left base he heard very little air entry. Fortunately the man could breath well enough. There was sufficient functioning lung for that as long as pneumonia didn't set in.

"Well Doc?" Kitty's question brought him back from his thoughts, "how is he?" Her voice was demanding an answer.

He folded his stethoscope and returned it to the table before pulling on his ear and trying to think of the best way to deliver news that was neither good nor bad.

"Kitty I really don't know what to tell you. Most of his lung is working fine, he still has some fever, but right now he is as good as we can hope for. He lost a lot of blood and that was a bad place to take a bullet. The lung is bruised and he may cough up a little blood from time to time. All we can do is to keep him as quiet as possible and let him heal."

"Is he going to be all right Doc?" She dared to ask the question that haunted her mind night and day.

"I don't know the answer to that yet Kitty. You know I'll do everything I can."

"I know Doc." Her shoulders slumped and she turned her face to hide the salty wetness in her eyes. He reached over and put his arm around her shoulders. It was as if the strength suddenly drained out of her, tears began rolling down her cheeks and he held her closer trying to give a little comfort. It was the only thing left that he could do. After a minute or two he spoke quietly to her.

"You need to go home and eat something then get some sleep. I'll stay with him tonight."

She tried to object but knew he was right. Exhaustion was setting in and explained why she was so emotional.

He led her, still with one arm around her shoulders, away from the bedside and into the outer office. Opening the glass door of the medicine cabinet he removed a small envelope containing a measured dose of powder and handed it to her.

"I want you to take this when you get home, Kitty, it will help you sleep. I don't want any argument from you either. Matt is going to need you when he wakes up and you need to be ready for that with all your strength." He eased her towards the outer door and opened it, ready to help her down the stairs. He saw Mr. Jonas going by and called to him.

"Hey Jonas," the man looked up. "Would you walk Kitty back to the Long Branch please?"

Jonas knew what was going on and hurried up the stairs, looking from Doc to Kitty trying to see any news in their eyes. Finally he asked.

"How is he Doc?"

"He's stable right now, we still have to wait and see."  
Jonas nodded knowingly as he took Kitty's arm. At first she was unwilling to leave.

"Go on now Kitty, I want you to get some rest. I promise I'll call you if anything changes."  
Reluctantly she allowed herself to be escorted down the stairs and along Front Street.

Jonas was not much good with words but he tried.

"Doc's a good man Miss Kitty and if anyone can pull him through, Doc can do it."

She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of a lace handkerchief, trying to hide her tears before entering the saloon. It would not be good for the whole town to see her distress.

"Thank you Mr. Jonas, I'll be all right now."

As she entered the Long Branch, all heads turned towards her. Calls of "How is he Miss Kitty?" and "Is the Marshal going to be all right?" greeted her. She smiled, appreciating all their concern.  
"Doc says he doesn't know much right now, " she told them as she steadied herself before climbing the stairs. Her room would be a very cold, lonely place.

"Can I get you anything Miss Kitty," Sam called after her as she slowly mounted the stairs.

Really all she wanted was to feel Matt's strong steady arms around her. She wanted Doc to tell her that he was going to be fine and good as new in a few days. She wanted the lawman to be safe so that she didn't have to worry about him day after day, but Sam had no influence over any of these things.

"No thanks Sam. I'm going to try and get some sleep. If you lock up for me before you leave, that would be good."

xxx

Doc counted his patient's pulse one more time before lighting the single oil lamp on the small table in front of the window. He replaced the glass chimney and adjusted the wick to where its flickering light would be just enough to allow him to check on his friend from time to time. He pulled the old rocking chair up to the bed and lowered himself into it. The window had been left open on purpose to let the cooler night air in. He had hoped it would help reduce the men's fever but the result was that now the room was cold and he needed a way to keep himself warm. He reached for an old patchwork quilt that some grateful patient had made for him a long time ago, so long ago that the patterns and colors had all faded into an unrecognizable grey, but it would serve to keep the cold from his tired body. He carefully tucked it in around himself as he tried to settle in for the night, knowing from experience that there was no way to sleep comfortably in this old chair, but maybe he could doze a little. His patient's condition would not allow much more than that anyway.

xxx

Adams could tell that several hours had passed and they were now well into the night. A few lamps out on Front Street were still burning but the saloons had closed down and except for the occasional straggler stumbling along the boardwalk, there were hardly any sounds coming from outside. These hours were hardest on any physician with a sick patient, if things were going to go bad this was so often the time when it would happen. In these small hours of the night, fevers could rise without warning and carefully sutured wounds could suddenly burst open. It was at such times that he really felt alone. There was no one else around, all the responsibility was his and if his knowledge was not sufficient, his friend would die. Those were the cold hard facts of medicine.

Over the years he had sat many nights, sometimes with a sick child, or a woman in labor, even an old farmer or two who was ready to give up the perpetual struggle of trying to eke a living from the cruel prairie. Some of those patients had lived and some died, but every one of them left a mark on his soul. Maybe if he had just had a little more knowledge or a little more skill in his hands, more would have lived. He pulled the old quilt a little closer against the cold and thought back on the many times he had sat with this particular man, a man who for some reason had dedicated his life to bringing law and order to the new frontier. They had a lot in common, the physician and the lawman. Both were isolated from other men by the profession they chose to serve.

Doc didn't know much about Matt Dillon's past or understand what it was that drove him on with such purpose. He only knew that there was something in the man that would not let him rest until he had righted every wrong in the world - or at least in Kansas. Doc had sat in this very chair watching over the tall, young Marshal as he recovered from gunshot wounds, beatings, fevers or just plain exhaustion, on many previous occasions, but tonight was different. From everything he had read the man would not recover from this particular wound, it had been too deep into the chest, too close to the lung, and too much blood had been lost. Even so, he would not give up trying. He knew Matt would not give up either, and certainly Kitty would be right there beside him no matter how bleak the outlook. But what about Dodge City? So many people here looked on Marshal Dillon as their source of security and protection. He was the one who chased down bank robbers and prevented gunslingers taking over the town. He was the one who always had an answer and always stood on the side of the law. All those people expected him, Dr. Galen Adams, to work a miracle yet again and put this man with a badge back together so that he could watch over Front Street once more.

In these dark hours before dawn the physician felt helpless and even afraid. There was no one for him to turn to for support, no one to say "let me take over for a while", or "maybe we could try this or do that," something he didn't know or hadn't thought of. If the Angel of Death was to come in these hours he was the only one here to fight the battle, and he knew that his weapons were so very limited. One day he was sure they would have the means to treat all the infections that plagued his patients, a medicine that would lower fever and allow wounds to heal. There would be surgical techniques of which he knew nothing so that damage to vital organs could be repaired, but those times had not come yet. All he could do was sit and wait and hope the Angel didn't come tonight.

A guttural groan dispelled his half dream and pulled him sharply back to the cold, poorly lit room.

"Matt?" he questioned as he leaned over the bed. "Matt it's Doc, can you hear me?"

The answer wasn't clear. The man on the bed made an effort to lift an arm and turn his head, but the movements were very slight and seemingly random.

The physician in him took over, falling back on the familiar routine of checking temperature by placing a hand on the forehead and the pulse by feeling for a wrist. There wasn't much change, the patient was still warm to the touch, maybe a little cooler than before but the temperature in the room was quite cold now so it was difficult to judge. Amazingly the heart rate was still going strong, a little fast maybe but almost regular. He picked up the stethoscope once more and plugged it in his ears. The right lung was remained clear, the left still not working fully.

"Matt?" He tried again. Maybe a little more focused look came into the blue eyes. He watched as the head tuned haltingly towards him, the searching eyes desperately trying to locate something familiar to lock on to. "Matt it's Doc," he tried again, his voice more gentle, the friend in him speaking now.

The lips were too parched and the tongue dry, he couldn't expect much of an answer. Reaching for a cloth he dampened it in a bowl of clean water and gently moistened the dry mouth. Friend or physician? Both were playing their part. He tried once more to separate those sides of himself. He hated to admit it, but the physician had little to offer and the friend could only offer comfort and reassurance. He could tell that his patient was trying to be coherent, but there was little he could do to help him.

"It's Doc," he said once more, softly, trying to give the man an anchor, something for his mind to focus on.

Slowly the face that had become so gaunt and pallid during the last few days, turned towards him. The lips and tongue struggled to co ordinate their movements until finally a sound was produced, barely audible, but certainly there.  
"Doc." almost a whisper but a triumph never the less.

"Yes Matt, it's Doc." The man was trying to say something else, but the words wouldn't form. The friend in him took a guess. "Kitty's fine, I just sent her home to get some rest, she'll be back soon." The man relaxed a little. The hot whips of fever where still thrashing around in his mind, but he seemed to understand those words - or maybe just that one word; 'Kitty'. There was a bond between his two friends, a bond of love, acceptance and understanding. The friend in Adams had hoped that the Marshal would give up that tin badge and marry the woman who loved him so deeply. He knew the love was reciprocated but the drive of the badge got in the way. Maybe after this, assuming his friend survived, he would think twice before putting that piece of metal back on his shirt.

Dillon was trying to sit up now, his movements still not coordinated but the intention was obvious. Doc, the physician, leaned over and pushed the shoulders gently back down to the pillows.

"You need to be very still Matt, don't try to move."  
The pressure from the physician's hands didn't stop the weak struggle.

"Gotta get.. gotta get.." Still something was driving the man to raise his head.

"There's nothing you gotta do Matt, I just took a bullet out of your chest and you need to lie very still and not mess up my handiwork."

The exertion brought on a coughing spell followed by a small trickle of blood at the corner of the dry mouth. The doctor in him watched, hoping it would not be more, the friend tried to convince himself that was to be expected, just some bruising, it would stop soon. With the ease of practice he wiped the blood away and reached for a small glass of water sitting on the bedside table.

"Here Matt, let's see if you can drink a little." He slid one hand under the damp fevered head and with the other touched the glass to the pale lips. A couple of sips, that was all he managed, but it was a start.

Doc sank back in his chair and pulled the quilt around himself once more. The room was quite cold now and he almost shivered. It wasn't only the temperature that caused the sense of unease he felt. The man lying there was the closest friend he had. If he should lose him he would become even more isolated. Kitty was a good friend too, more than a friend in fact- almost a daughter, but that was a very different relationship. Matt was a friend he could play a game of checkers or pool with, drink a beer with. Most of all he was a friend he could confide in or discuss a problem with and know the conversation would go no further.

The Marshal's friendship went further than that and Doc knew it. Matt would protect the physician with his life if necessary, and not as he joked, just because the doctor was a valued commodity to the town. He did it out of caring for his fellow man. In that respect the two men had a lot in common.

The Marshal thought nothing of riding out with he Doctor if he had to go visit a patient in a situation that could be dangerous. There was that time when old man Pitcher sent his boy out to get him. Doc didn't even have to ask, his friend the Marshal was right there. He remembered like it was yesterday, being there in old man Pitcher's barn. He was so angry because the man had brought him all the way from town to attend his sick cow. The man didn't even keep his barn clean, he could still smell the stale cow dung and urine. How could anyone expect the animal to flourish in such conditions? Matt was there telling him to calm down, to get back in the buggy and leave, but the boy had returned and said how everyone in Dodge was looking for him. A woman had cut herself badly and bled to death because he wasn't there. He had been out at Pitcher's place tending a sick cow! The anger rose in him just thinking about it. He couldn't help it, he wanted to hurt Pitcher, the woman had died and that would be on his conscience forever. If he had been in town he could have stopped the bleeding and she would have lived. Pitcher was coming at him with a knife. He felt it slide beneath his ribs. Blood started to flow. Matt was there for him. The Marshal didn't want to do the surgery, he had been scared at first and reluctant to try. His large toughened hands were not cut out for such delicate work, but somehow he managed to complete the grisly task and Doc had survived. Doc relived those moments in Pitcher's cabin. He remembered the pain and the fear. He would have bled to death if Matt hadn't had the courage to try. (1)

He shook his head. Matt was a man who asked very little in return for his unquestioning friendship, not that Doc had anything much to give - only the benefit of his medical skills and goodness knows Dillon had needed those often enough. He hoped to goodness they would be enough this time.

His patient had grown quiet again and Doc rested his head back on the pillow behind him. Maybe he could close his eyes for a few minutes. His mind wouldn't rest, he went over and over everything he had done to try to save this man's life. Maybe he had overlooked something but if he had he didn't know what it was.

He was back in the cabin just outside of town with Jed Butler. His partner was wounded and he had taken Doc out there to tend him, threatening to kill the physician if the man died. Doc knew the man would not live and resigned himself to dying at the hands of the man called Butler. Then at the last minute there was a knock on the door. Matt had entered the cabin unarmed, hands in the air, willing to give his own life to save Doc. (2) "Greater love hath no man," the physician had quoted at the time, that was what made Dillon so unique, that soft quiet love, a concern for fellow man. This was a man with unusual strength and determination who devoted his life to upholding the law and caring about his friends. Now that same life was in Doc Adam's hands, hanging in a balance he alone controlled. He hated the burden but knew he owed this man much and he would see it through.

1 Cow Doctor season 2

2 Greater Love season 2

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Doc's Dilemma

Chapter 4

Doc knew he must have eventually slept for a while because a knocking on the outer door of his office brought him back to reality. He stood up carefully, his limbs stiffened by the cold air and the uncomfortable position his body had been forced into. He cast a quick glance at his patient in the bed then went to the door. He knew it would be Kitty even before he opened it.

"It doesn't look like you got much sleep last night Doc," the saloon owner commented, noting his tousled gray hair, and bleary eyes. "I brought you some breakfast from Delmonico's," she was looking at him, trying to judge how things were going from the expression on his face. She became more serious as she handed him the small sac of food.

"How is he this morning?"

The physician ran his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to push it towards the back of his head.

"He's holding his own. The fever broke for a while during the night and I think he asked for you. He coughed a little blood too, but less than before."

Kitty had put the coffee pot on the stove, and found a plate to put the food on.

"Here Curly, sit down and eat, I can't afford for you to get sick."  
She sat and watched him for a while to make sure he ate the eggs and toast and poured him a cup of fresh coffee when it was ready. Try as she might she couldn't imagine life in Dodge without Matt. Somehow Doc had to see him through this.

xxx

It was later that afternoon. Doc had gone to make rounds on three patients he had to see and left Kitty with strict instructions to keep Matt quiet and still and to try to get him to drink something if he woke up. Other than that she was to keep him cool and let him rest.

She had been reading the newspaper, occasionally making comments that she directed towards the man in the bed, not that she expected any reply but just talking to him as if he was able to listen and understand made her feel better.

The day had been a hot one for the time of year and she had pulled the shade down over the window to keep the sunlight out. She figured it was getting late in the afternoon and Doc should be getting back soon. Dillon began to stir restlessly. She laid a hand on his shoulder, calling his name in a soft soothing voice. "Matt? How're you feeling?" She brushed her fingers across his forehead pushing that one errant black curl back in place. Surprisingly he opened his eyes, and turned his head slowly towards her.

"Kitty?" he asked, the word came out slowly and only after a lot of deliberation.

"Yes Matt." she squeezed his hand and smiled, "I'm here."

"Did Doc…get that bullet out of me."

"He did, but he says it was real close to your lung and you have to stay very still and quiet."

Matt grunted, generally showing disgust and disrespect for the doctor's advice.

He felt his head being lifted and a cool cup pressed to his lips.

"He also said for you to try and drink a little," she added, ignoring his opinion.

He took a few small sips and lay back exhausted.

"How long have I been here?" His voice was a little clearer now that he'd swallowed the water.

"About four days."

"Who's looking after the town?"

"You don't have to worry about that. Doug is doing a good job and he's got Chester and that young man Jed Bowman to help him."

She reached to push him back down as he tried to raise up a little.

"No Matt don't do it, I know you never listened to Doc in the past but this time you need to."

"No, I need to check on.." that was a s far as he got. A bout of coughing consumed him and once again Kitty wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"See what happens when you don't listen." she was so upset that she was halfway angry with him. "Doc and I have spent a lot of time sitting here with you and the least you can do is listen to us."

He wanted to answer but his mind became foggy once more. After a few moments Kitty could tell by the flush in his face that the fever was returning. She took to bathing his forehead with a cloth dampened with fresh cool well water and hoped Doc wouldn't be too long.

As if on cue the outer door to the office opened and Doc returned. He placed his black bag on the old roll top desk and his hat on the stand behind the door. Kitty met him at the entrance to the back room. He could tell by her face she was troubled.

"He had that coughing again Doc, more blood this time and now his fever has returned."

No physician liked to get bad news concerning his patient and he tried to smooth it over as much for his own sake as for hers. "We can expect ups and downs," he told her as he went to wash his hands and collect his stethoscope from the bag he had just put down. He was tired, very tired, he had already lost one patient that afternoon but now was not the time to think about it.

"Kitty, I saw Doug as I came into town. He asked if you would meet him at the jail, he has a favor to ask.

"But Curly,.." she really didn't want to leave now.

"Go on Kitty, I need to check him over and change that dressing. Doug sounded quite urgent so go and see what he wants. I'll take care of Matt."

Truth be told the physician didn't want Kitty there if he found that the Marshal had taken a turn for the worse. There was no way he could break that news to her here and now. He would have to find a way to accept it himself first. He had seen people die from a bullet wound to the lung before. It was a very traumatic event, the patient almost drowning in his own blood before the heart finally stopped beating. He did not want his friend Matt Dillon to suffer such a fate, and iff that was the way it had to be he certainly did not want Kitty Russell to witness it. He would stay with his friend alone if he had to, even though it meant standing helplessly by and watching, knowing there was nothing he could do.

xxx

Kitty had grown fond of Doug Hamilton. Shortly after he had brought Matt back to town, he had been made acting US Marshal, taking over Matt's territory until the Marshal was able to resume his regular duties. They had a common reference point in Matt Dillon, and she saw many of the same qualities in the former Deputy Marshal that she saw in her own Marshal. He was loyal, strongly devoted to the badge, and yet softly spoken and gentle in his ways. She had come to understand that whatever part Gina had played in his episode of misfortune, he still loved her with his whole heart.

She arrived at the office to find him talking to Chester. The jailer looked up and smiled.  
"Miss Kitty, come in and sit down, I've got some coffee on the stove." He pulled out a chair for her and she lowered herself into it, surprised at how exhausted she felt.

"I don't think I could drink anymore coffee right now, but thanks all the same," she smiled at him, knowing his next question would be about Matt and when he asked it, she had the answer all ready.

"Not much change I'm afraid, but Doc is with him now."

Chester was worried about his boss. Matt Dillon had been the first man to give him a job and treat him like a regular human being. Others had called him a cripple because of his stiff leg but the Marshal never treated him any different to anyone else and just presumed that somehow he could do everything asked of him. Chester couldn't help but admire the man who treated him so fairly.

"Kitty I need to ask you a big favor," Doug started. "This jail is no place for a woman especially since I now have three men back there. Gina needs a little privacy to attend to … well female things like bathing and clean clothes. I wondered if you could help."  
The saloon owner smiled at him. Matt often commented on the fact that the Dodge City jail was no place for a woman. She had a spare room over the Long Branch and would be happy to accommodate the City Marshal's wife if he would remain responsible for her safety.

xxx

Later that evening Gina was enjoying the hot bath that Kitty had had filled for her and was dressed in a borrowed skirt and blouse. She felt clean and well dressed for the first time in weeks. Somehow dealing with Johnny Halstead had always made her feel dirty, she had tried to push it aside but it had always been there. Goodness knows why she had fallen for the young man who would kill for money, when she had the love of Doug Hamilton.

"Kitty," she started, "have you ever felt you'd made a complete fool of yourself?"

The red head laughed, "Many times Gina, what makes you ask?"

"Doug is a good man, he was never anything but kind and understanding towards me, even when he knew I was lying to him about spending time with women from the church. He thought it was all his fault, and he tried to adjust his life to make mine happier, even to the point of giving up the job he loved."

Kitty smiled - at first she thought that Gina was trying to influence her with lies, but looking into the young woman's face she knew she was telling the truth. A few days in a jail cell gave plenty of time for reflection.

"Have you told Doug about this?"

"There's really no privacy back there at the Marshal's office for a heart to heart talk." The woman walked around the room a little. "Tell me Kitty how do you cope with Matt's long absences, and before you deny it, I know how it is between you. I know how you have spent all your time sitting with him in Doc's office since Doug brought him back. I've heard Chester talking and I know how hard it is for you, Matt being hurt and all. Doug told me it was real bad."  
"Doc will see him through," Kitty tried to convince herself as much as stop the other woman talking about it. Gina realized she had said the wrong thing and changed the subject.

"I'm sorry Kitty, I didn't mean it to sound like that. How do you cope with this? It always scared me when Doug was away. I was so afraid he wouldn't come back or that something would happen to him. I got so lonely when he was gone on those long trips. I guess I took the easy way out and found other men to occupy my time and stop myself from thinking about it. What do you do?"

Kitty thought - what did she do? Her fears and wants were the same as Gina's. Sure she had the Long Branch to run and when things were busy she could sometimes go as much as an hour or so without thinking of her man. Just hour by hour, day by day, that's all she could do.

"If you really love someone Gina, it is difficult but not impossible. Real love for a person means that whoever else you find, no one can fill the void left when that person is not with you. You just have to wait and hope. I'm not saying it's easy but you learn to deal with it."

She noticed the tears streaming from Gina's dark eyes. "I have been so stupid, so selfish, such a fool, What is going to happen to me Kitty?"

"I don't know the answer to that Gina, but whatever it is you have to accept it and face it with strength."

"Doug told me he would wait for me, whatever the outcome of the trial. He said he would be there for me."

"He's a good man Gina and he loves you very much, just keep that thought in your head and repeat it to yourself every day."

They exchanged an embrace before Kitty stood back and looked at the younger woman. She reached in a drawer for a linen handkerchief and handed it to the dark eyed beauty.

"I have to get ready to go to work soon Gina. You can stay in this room as long as you promise not to try to leave. Believe me it will be a lot more comfortable than the jail."

"I promise Kitty, and thank you for everything."

Kitty left the young woman and went along the hall to her own suite of rooms behind the curtain. She would have time to change her clothes then go up to Doc's before the evening rush started.

xxx

For Matt the passage time had been very blurred. The last clear thing he could remember was some instinct telling him a bullet was headed his way. He had managed to draw his gun and fire at the flash just as the impact knocked him off his horse and he hit the ground. He heard more gunfire but the terrible pain in his chest almost stopped him from taking another breath let alone turn his body to see where it came from. All he could do was lie where he had fallen and wait for that initial vicious pain to subside before he could even think about anything else. He remembered telling Hamilton to watch the prisoner, but after that events became a jumble of disconnected images. Somehow he was in a wagon, every bump in the road was like a hot iron piercing his chest but he knew they were headed somewhere and whoever was driving was pushing the horses to go faster. The wagon had stopped and he was being carried, there were voices that at any other time he would have recognized but now they were just noise, the words incomprehensible. He tried to talk, to ask what was going on, but his voice was locked within him, he didn't have the strength to push it out. The pain was bad, but it got much worse, someone was poking at his chest, he wanted to knock those hands away, they needed to leave him alone. He struggled some more but that only met with a covering being placed over his mouth and nose, followed by a sweet sickly smell. He tried to fight it but he had no strength and at last darkness came.

He had no idea how long he had been lying there but he was cold, shivering and barely able to move. There was a face in front of him but it was distorted and would not stay in focus. More sounds, someone may have been calling his name, it was all vaguely familiar and yet he recognized nothing. Pain became the only constant in his life. From feeling cold and shivering he went to heat, so hot that sweat was blurring his eyes. He was aware of cool hands touching him, cold cloths around his face and chest, the very air was cold and yet his body felt as if he was on fire.

Slowly his vision settled, he tried to turn his head. The familiar but unknown voice was there again. This time he worked really hard and managed to trap the image and the sound together.

"Matt, it's Doc," he heard. Doc, yes that was the voice he recognized. He tried to turn towards it, maybe if he could sit up his head would clear, but something pushed him back, restrained him. There was someone he needed, someone who could help him, an image came to him; the red hair, the blue eyes, she would understand him. He tried to say her name, "Kitty". He knew the sound barely came out because his mouth was so dry. Suddenly there was moisture, a damp sponge that brought some relief and he tried again. The familiar face beside him must have heard because it replied "…be here soon." He understood that but by now he felt the cough rising in his chest. He didn't want to let it out, he knew it would make the pain much worse, but he couldn't stop it. It forced its way through him and pain flooded his whole body. The darkness behind his closed eyes became fiery red flames and he felt something warm and sticky rising in its wake. The cool cloth wiped across his mouth once more, then reality faded and darkness took over again.

xxx

He was trying to surface from the blackness. The pain was there so he knew he was still alive. Something else was there too, a smell, one that was familiar and pleasant. It was the gentle perfume he associated with the woman he loved. He was going to say her name no matter what the cost. First he opened his eyes, searching for her. To begin with he could not focus, but that made him try even harder, finally he made his mouth form her name. He could sense more than see her response. A soft gentle hand took hold of his. He remembered now, he took a bullet, probably from a rifle. His chest hurt so badly, it was as if a hot poker was buried deep in his lung and waves of pain radiated outwards. Maybe the bullet was still in there, what if Doc hadn't been able to remove it?

Carefully he asked the question and was pleased with the reply. If Doc had removed the bullet and he was still alive he would be all right. His next concern was the town. He was here in the bed, what was happening on the street. He needed to get up and check, but a hand pushed him down. Someone else was watching the town, he should relax but he couldn't. He tried once more to sit up but that deep rasping cough returned. He couldn't fight it. He felt the fever blurring his mind again, sleep would soon follow and mask the pain. He sank back on the pillows and into the welcoming darkness.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Doc's Dilemma

Chapter 5

Doc was walking back from the depot after collecting the latest mail that had arrived for him on the afternoon stage. All responses he had received, from the letters he had sent out, had been uniformly bleak. They all said the same thing but in different ways so already he dreaded opening the latest correspondence. As he suspected this one brought the same unhopeful reply. Massive hemorrhage was usually the cause of death in cases similar to the one he described, and there were no reports of patients surviving more than four or five days with such an injury. It was now the fifth day for Dillon and although he had made little improvement, his condition had not regressed either. He was certainly not about to give up and if by some good fortune his friend the Marshal should survive, Adams would strongly consider writing up his own case study. He allowed himself a smile at the thought of a 'cow town' Doctor submitting a paper to one of the more prestigious medical journals.

He was just passing the jail when Hamilton opened the door to the Marshal's office and stopped him.

"Have you got a minute Doc?"

Adams followed the man inside and looked around. Everything was the same, Chester was firing up the stove to brew another pot of the concoction he called coffee, and a selection of voices were coming from the cells. He could almost expect Matt to come striding through the back door at any minute - except that he knew he had left him asleep in the back room of his office.

"I wanted to thank you for recommending me to take over this job." Hamilton started. Although he was proud of the new Marshal's badge on his chest, he was not happy at the way it had come to him. Doc had wired the Marshal's service in Washington to inform them that Marshal Dillon had suffered a very serious gunshot wound and would be unable to perform his duties as United States Marshal for an undetermined period of time. A telegram had arrived back in the Dodge City office the same day promoting Deputy Marshal Hamilton to Acting Marshal until such time as Dillon was able to return to work. The official paperwork confirming the promotion would arrive shortly by US Mail.

"Nothing to do with me." Adams set his black bag on the table and placed his hat beside it. "I don't have any influence over those people in Washington, you should know that."

Hamilton wasn't so sure, but had no suitable reply. There was silence for a moment and Chester felt obliged to remedy the situation.

"If you're staying a while Doc, this coffee's about ready," he suggested.

The physician made a noise somewhere between a growl and a cough, but accepted the white mug of steaming liquid that was set in front of him. The jailer handed a second mug to his temporary boss.

"I guess I'll go on over to the Long Branch and relieve Jed, Mr. Hamilton."

Doug nodded, "Thanks Chester - I'll be over there in a while."

The man with the stiff leg took a rifle down from the rack. "I'll see you later Doc," he said as he headed out the door.

Adams wanted to tell Hamilton that his temporary promotion might well turn out to be a permanent one because, by all accounts, the chances of Matt surviving this injury where very slim. He wanted to share that burden and felt a need to talk about it with someone. He had hinted at it to Kitty so she could prepare herself for the grim possibility, but she had pushed the thought aside with a determined denial. Hamilton was a good friend, but far enough removed that he could handle it. And yet, Doc thought, the burden should be his alone to bear, he was the physician, he was supposed to be able to deal with these things. Life and death, they were part of his profession, weren't they? This was no different, at least it shouldn't be. But it was.

Doc treated many patients, he could empathize with their situations but at the same time keep his inner feelings out of the way. He had even treated Matt many times before, but never with so much at stake and never feeling so helpless as he did now. Even so he knew he had no right to put that worry on another man's shoulders. In the end he decided to keep his feelings buried deep under his crusty exterior and get on with his job to the best of his ability.

"You all right Doc?"

The physician looked up at the man in front of him as if suddenly remembering that he was there, then drained the last of the coffee from the mug he was holding.

"Yes Doug I'm fine, just a little tired I guess."  
"Anything I can do to help?"

"I'll let you know. I have to get back to the office now."

xxx

In the five days since Deputy Marshal Hamilton had returned to Dodge with his two prisoners and injured friend, he had begun to feel that he was at least partly to blame for Dillon's condition. His promotion, which should have been a cause for celebration, was overshadowed by a harsh reality in which his best friend was badly hurt, and his own wife was going to trial.

He had become a regular visitor to the Long Branch during this time and found that Kitty Russell was an easy person to sit and talk with on the evenings she was not sitting with Matt. She was looking tired and worried, and sometimes distracted because the Marshal did not seem to be making much progress. The visits also gave him the chance to spend time with Gina. It would be a few more days before the Judge arrived in Dodge to hold trial and he wanted to do his best for her. He had asked Kitty if there was anyway she could get Daniel T Pascoe to come back to Dodge and defend his wife. He didn't have much money but would gladly pay whatever he could.

Kitty was not around this evening so he made his way up the stairs to the room where Gina was being held. He unlocked the door after knocking and calling her name.

To his eyes she was as beautiful as ever. Kitty had loaned her some clothes and helped fix her hair in a simple but elegant style. As usual they exchanged an embrace when he arrived, he would allow himself that but nothing more till this was over, she was still his prisoner although he didn't like to dwell on that.

She had told him several times what a fool she had been and realized now how much she loved him. He told her in return that he would do everything he could for her and had sent for Daniel Pascoe from St. Louis to come and represent her at trial. She knew he could not change that part. She would have to stand trial for the things she had done but knowing that he swore he would be waiting for her, what ever happened, helped her to face the future.

They sat looking at each other across the small table where she took her meals. Doug usually brought her evening meal and would stay and talk with her while she ate.

Her dark eyes were sad now, Doug remembered them shining and so full of life. Now frequent tears had served to remove their luster.

"Do you think they'll hang me?" The words caught in her throat for a moment as she asked him.

"They don't usually hang women, Gina, and you didn't murder anyone so it will not come to that."

"What about Halstead and Etheridge?"

"I can't say. There is a good chance that Halstead will hang. He did murder that bounty hunter in cold blood. I'm not sure about Etheridge, he may go to prison for a long, long time."

Her face was turned down as she studied her hands lying in her lap. He reached over and using two fingers, lifted her chin so that she was looking into his eyes.

"If you want me Gina, I will be there for you, I will wait however long it takes. I need you as my wife again."

She took his hand in hers and raised it to her lips. "I don't deserve you Doug, but I am proud that you feel that way and, if I get the chance, I'll show you what a good wife I can be."

He stayed a little longer before locking the door behind him and walking down the stairs deep in thought. He had just reached the bottom step when Kitty came through the swing doors. He could tell by her eyes that she had been crying. The saloon was quite crowded and he looked around for a private space for her. He remembered the little office at the back and put his arm around her and directed her towards it.

Once inside he closed the door and turned her to face him. She broke down and cried on his shoulder to such an extent that at first he thought the worst had happened. After a moment or two she recovered her poise somewhat and he pulled a red bandana from his pocket and gave it to her.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I shouldn't be crying on your shoulder, you have enough to deal with." she touched the badge pinned to his shirt and gave a half smile. "Do you know what you're taking on with that?"

"I know Kitty." He pushed her back from him a little, still resting his hands on her shoulders. He looked directly into her eyes, "And Matt knows too. How is he tonight?"

She turned from him and sat in the chair next to the small desk where she worked on the accounts.  
"He's still having fevers and coughing up blood from time to time. I can tell that Doc is worried but it hurts him to talk about it. He's sent for every journal from every institution he can think of to see if there is anything else he should be doing."

"Any luck?"

"Not as far as I can tell, he's not saying much except we have to watch and wait."

"Matt's a strong man, Kitty."

"Yes," she agreed, "he is."

xxx

Daniel T. Pascoe climbed down from the stage in Dodge City for the second time in a few weeks. The acting Marshal met him and took him across the street to the small room that Matt kept at Ma Smalley's. It had the advantage of its own private entrance that was not visible from Front Street, and of course its usual occupant would not be needing it any time soon. Kitty had suggested putting him there, because they knew he didn't have money to pay for a room at the Dodge House and she thought it would be all right with Matt.

The young attorney set to work with great enthusiasm. He sat and talked to Gina for hours on end, till eventually he created a defense strategy. Like he told Doug, it might not work but it was the only idea he could come up with - and after all Gina was a beautiful woman and the jury would be all male. Handled correctly he thought he could show her in a good light and although she would possibly go to prison for a while, he hoped to keep her sentence as short as possible.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Doc's Dilemma

Chapter 6

A week had passed and Judge Brooking was expected to arrive in town any day. Hamilton had never prepared for such a big trial before and had never met Judge Brooking. He was a little apprehensive about it and really wanted to talk with Dillon. He approached Doc about the possibility when he saw him in Delmonico's.

Doc ran his hand over his mustache, "I don't know Doug, he's pretty weak and still having fevers most afternoons and evenings. Maybe the best thing you could do would be to come by early in the morning. I can't guarantee he'll be able to help you but you can try so long as you don't tire him out."

Doc started back towards his office. Kitty had been sitting with Matt since mid morning. He had been trying to take the evening shift because if the fever and cough returned that was the time of day that it usually happened. He knew Kitty had enough to deal with and the fewer distressing moments she had to witness the better, so he kept dressing changes and his daily examinations for later in the day. He had another reason behind wanting her to be with Matt during his more lucid times, she was very adept at getting him to take broth and sugar water which were all that was keeping him alive right now.

He trudged up the familiar stairs with a new reply in hand. It had come from a noted surgeon in Baltimore and he opened the envelope quickly, eager to find any small glimmer of hope therein, but sadly the information it contained was just as bleak as all the others he had received.

Not feeling ready to talk to Kitty yet he pushed some wood in the stove and started boiling water to sterilize the instruments he would need to do his evening chore, then he hung his jacket on the back of the chair at the desk. He couldn't help but think of how many times Matt had sat there waiting to talk to some stranger who had come into town with a bullet wound, or some friend from long ago who was sick or injured. He thought back to the time when Typhoid had broken out in Dodge and Matt had listened to his own drunken frustration. Right here at this very desk he had ranted and raved because he couldn't find an answer to the problem, Dillon had listened and tried to get him back on track with that calm, solid strength he always seemed able to find when the situation needed it. (3)

Too many memories, he was tempted to pull out the whisky bottle now and try to drown them away, but knew that wouldn't help anyone, least of all him. He had to focus on the positive. Matt had now survived for a whole week, that was two days longer than predicted by all the naysayers. He, the physician, would work tirelessly until his friend drew a final breath, where there's life there's hope. He had seen patients defy all expectations before, some had lived when they should have died and of course some had died when they would have been expected to live. There was often no rhyme or reason to it. The Marshal in the back room was strong, he had beaten the odds before, if anyone could survive this, he could.

The water had boiled and the instruments were ready. He washed his hands and selected the ones he would need then arranged them on a metal tray along with the new dressings. Unable to find another reason to delay, he entered the back room to see Kitty sponging the big man's face and neck.

"Is he spiking fevers again?" he asked her a little too anxiously.

"No Doc he's been doing better today, I have just finished bathing him off a little. He was beginning to smell like one of those Texas trail hands." She smiled as she looked down at the man lying in the bed, and then patted his hand.

"He's getting better Doc. I fed him a little gruel today. He didn't like it but it stayed down."

The physician couldn't help but admire her spirit. Her mind was unencumbered by medical statistics. For her it was just a matter of time until Dillon was up out of that bed and walking Front Street again. Sometimes, he thought reluctantly, it was not good to have too much knowledge.

He reached for a wrist and checked the pulse against the second hand of his pocket watch. It was certainly a little slower than the rapid rate at which it had been beating for the last few days, more regular too. Maybe, just maybe, did he dare to hope? He felt the forehead, a little warmer than it should be, but not the burning heat of previous nights.

"How're you feeling Matt?" he asked - not really expecting much of an answer.

" Like I'd been trampled in a stampede," the Marshal answered. His words were a little slurred and his voice was far from its normal strength, but he had answered and seemed to know what was going on.

"Kitty, I'll take over now. Go home and rest before the evening rush." He knew she had been working in the Long Branch most evenings, then getting up early to come and sit with Matt. The physician in him worried about the strain on her, she was barely able to get three or four hours of sleep most nights. He had suggested they get Ma Smalley to come and sit here some mornings, even Chester could spell her for a while. She had refused, wanting to spend as much time with Matt as possible - just in case. Kitty was not blind, she had seen the look in Doc's eyes as answers to his letters came back. She knew Matt's chances weren't good, but deliberately pushed all that to the back of her mind, just trying to take each day as it came along, after all those people didn't know Matt Dillon. He was strong and tough and would fight all the way.

xxx

The evening was quiet. Doc had finished all his self-imposed tasks and was sitting at Dillon's bedside reading yet another Journal he had received that day.

Matt had turned his head slightly and was watching his old friend. After a while he managed to arrange his thoughts enough to ask a question.

"Doc, what are my chances?"

Adams had not realized that his patient was awake, let alone able to ask an appropriate question. He thought for a moment, what should he tell him? Matt was an intelligent man and would not be fobbed of with a vague answer. He removed his spectacles and looked carefully at the man in the bed.

"I tell you, Matt, that was a serious wound, but if you do as I tell you and stay in that bed to give yourself time to heal, you should be fine." That might have been stretching the truth a little but what else could he say?

"Right now I don't think I have the strength to do anything else."

"Well just remember that in a week or so when you start fighting me to get out of here. You need to get some sleep now. Doug is coming over in the morning to ask you about setting up for the trial, I think he needs some advice."

He put his spectacles back in place and returned to reading his journal.

"I'll be here," came the quiet reply, then silence. Doc looked up and checked his friend, he was sleeping now with only a minimal amount of fever tonight. It looked like he might get to write that paper after all.

xxx

It had been day light for barely an hour when Adams awoke to knocking on his door. He had been able to sleep reasonably well last night by leaving the old rocker and settling on the spare cot in his front office. He had left the door to the bedroom open just so he would hear if Matt needed him.

Doc was surprised to see Hamilton this early, but figured the man had taken him at his word. He opened the door and pointed to a chair as he put the coffee pot on the stove to heat up.

"Wait here while I go check on him. You can help yourself to coffee when it's ready."

He wasn't sure if he should let Hamilton ask questions. Matt was very week and this could all be too much for him. Doc didn't want him moving around or getting excited, he certainly didn't want the bleeding to start up again. It could well be too much for him

"Matt," he called softly, touching his patient on the shoulder. At first he got no response so he tried again.

"Matt, Doug Hamilton wants to talk to you. Are you up to it?"

Dillon opened his eyes, blinking several times to clear his head. The Doctor watched him for a moment or two before his eyes spotted the small tinge of red on the pillow and a corresponding patch of dried blood at the corner of the man's mouth. He felt a sense of guilt that he had not spent the night sitting by his patient's bedside as a good physician should. He, more than anyone, knew the importance of constant vigilance. He knew how suddenly things could go wrong if no one was watching for the smallest change. Once more he listened with the stethoscope, there was nothing new to be heard, maybe he had been lucky this time, maybe.

"Matt?" he repeated again.

"I heard you Doc." The voice was weak but at least there was a voice. "I'll talk with him."

Doc wiped the man's face with a damp cloth removing the dried blood without saying anything.

"Not for too long Matt, I'll send him in and bring you some coffee in a few minutes."

Doc called to Hamilton and then left the room. He was worried, why was Matt still coughing up blood, it was now about eight days since they had brought him in. Common sense told him that if the bullet had punctured the lung, that organ would have probably collapsed by now. One thing for certain was that there was no way the man was getting out of that bed until the bleeding had stopped and twenty four hours had passed without fever. Right now that was not a problem - Dillon was to weak to even sit up without help but once he found some strength he would want to be up and around and out from under Doc's control.

Adams poured two cups of coffee and set them aside so he could drink one and let the other cool for Matt. He picked up the textbook he had been reading and sat at the old roll top desk listening vaguely to the muted voices coming from the other room. He took out his watch and laid it next to the coffee cup, he would allow Hamilton no more than ten minutes.

The ten minutes were not even up when Hamilton came through the door. Doc looked up at him inquiringly.

"He went to sleep, Doc," he said as way of explanation.

"Did he manage to tell you what you needed to know?"  
"Some of it. He said that Chester knew how to get the court room set up and would be able to get some men to help him. I was worried about Judge Brooking, I hear he likes things organized a certain way."

'I'm sure he'll make allowances under the circumstances."

"Doc," there was a question coming, Adams could tell. "Matt doesn't look like he's doing real well."

"He's pretty sick, Doug." The temporary Marshal took a breath, hardly daring to ask the question that was uppermost in his mind.  
"Is he going to make it?"

Doc thought of skirting around the subject but decided not to. Whatever the outcome, it would affect this man also. He had a right to know. If only he himself knew the answer he might tell him.

"He has about a fifty fifty chance, I can't do better than that."

"What about Miss Kitty?"

"She knows, Doug. but she doesn't want to think about it."

"Thanks Doc." Hamilton placed his hat firmly on his head as he turned and left.

The physician picked up the second coffee cup and stirred two spoons of sugar into the now cooled liquid, he was determined to get at least half of it down the man in the bed before Kitty arrived.

xxx

It had been a long morning. Kitty had brought the account books from the Long Branch with her so she could work on them while she sat with Matt. He had been really quiet and she thought he was sleeping but continued to make the occasional comment about some drummer or the quality of the whisky as if he were listening. She had been sitting in the same chair for about two hours and decided to get up and stretch by walking around the office. She just got to the door when he called her,

"Kitty, are you leaving?" The voice was quiet and a little strained, but she was happy to hear it,  
"I didn't know you were awake," she told him, returning to the bed and taking his hand.

"Did Judge Brooking get here yet?"  
"He'll be arriving on the afternoon stage from Wichita."

Dillon appeared to consider that information for a while.

"I need to be there for the trial."

Kitty pretended she didn't hear him. He gripped her hand a little harder.

"I can't leave all that to Doug."

"You talk to Doc about that, Matt, but I know what his answer will be."

"Kitty I have to be there, it's my job."

"Not right now it isn't. Doug is acting Marshal until Doc says you are able to return to work."

Matt gave up arguing, it wasn't getting him anywhere and he could feel it taxing what little strength he had. He would save his arguments until Doc returned.

TBC

3. The Pesthole. Season 1


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Daniel T Pascoe was in Gina's room over the long Branch. He was aware that Judge Brooking would arrive in town any minute and needed to prepare his defense. He had talked with Gina almost every day since his arrival in town. His Uncle had always impressed upon him that you could never go over the facts too many times, sometimes new details would emerge or faulty memories get corrected

"Tell me Gina, where and how did you first meet Johnny Halstead."

She thought for a few moments, they had already been over this at least half a dozen times, but he told her it was important so she started to tell her story yet again.

"It was in Garden City. I think Doug had been out of town for two or three days and I was a little bored. I was in the mercantile there, looking at some new fabric. It was so pretty, a pale green with tiny yellow and pink daisies." She smiled to herself as she remembered the way it had felt in her fingers. "It was so soft and silky but there was no way I could afford enough of it to make a dress."

Pascoe listened to her ramblings, he had time and infinite patience and had found that letting people talk was the best way to get at information he could use. She sat there staring at the wall for a few minutes, obviously day dreaming. He waited then encouraged her to continue.

"What happened next?"

"This young cowboy came over to me and tipped his hat. He had these incredible green eyes that danced when he smiled."

_She thought of that afternoon. She was lonely and mad at Doug for being gone. He had already been away for three days and nights investigating a report of missing cattle from a ranch at the far edge of town. He had had to wait until the rustlers came back so he could catch them in the act and arrest them. He had been back home one night then left again soon after breakfast to deliver some legal papers. He told her he would be back the next day if he could make it, if not the day after._

"_That would sure look pretty on you," the cowboy had told her, deftly managing to touch her fingers as he pretended to feel the fabric. Next thing she knew he had picked up the bolt of the silky material and placed it on the counter. "Just add that to my tab," he told the owner of the store, "however much the lady needs." _

_Mr. Swindon looked at him and in a quiet whisper said "You know who that is? That's the City Marshal's wife, Gina Hamilton."_

"_Really?" the cowboy smiled as he turned back towards the young woman, "then I am truly honored ma'am."_

Gina came back to the present, wondering how much she had said aloud. That scene always excited her - that a man should find her so attractive. But now the difference was that she knew better. Doug Hamilton was worth a hundred times more than that conniving cowboy who had led her on, making her think he was going to take her away to some big eastern city - all they needed was money, and she had helped him get that. Looking back she could see how stupid she had been. Now she must pay the price.

Pascoe looked at her, "So what happened after that?"

Gina hung her head. "He came visiting every time Doug was away. He was very attentive and had dreams about visiting big cities and living a life away from these dirt towns of the prairie. Doug would not have liked those places, I knew that."

"So you told him about the reward money?"

"At first I didn't know he planned to get Doug involved, but the way Johnny said it, the only way I would ever be able to belong to him was if we got rid of my husband. I think I got swept along in the rush of a new adventure. For a while I didn't even consider my husband's feelings or future."

She dropped her head into her hands.

"What's going to happen to me now?"

"I'm going to try my best for you, but ultimately that is up to the court." He stopped and looked at her for a moment or two, she was a beautiful woman, he couldn't help but notice that.

"Is it true that you tried to plant false evidence against your husband?"  
She stared at the young man in front of her, his thatch of straw colored hair seemed somewhat incongruous with his profession.

"It's best if you tell me the truth, Gina, else it will come out in the trial and we will not be prepared for it."

She turned her head away and nodded, avoiding his eyes.

"That may be a tough situation. Attempting to manipulate the course of justice is a serious offense and can carry a heavy prison term. I will do what I can if it comes up, and I am sure it will. Johnny Halstead is bound to try and blame you for that."

"What can we do about it?"

"I can try to prove that it was not influential or maybe not properly documented evidence." He was thinking now, someway to get around it, to show it was 'void ab initio', never substantiated as evidence. A long shot, he knew he was grasping at straws, but anything was better than nothing. He would look it up when he got back to his room - well Marshal Dillon's room - tonight. He had brought a whole stack of law books with him for this very purpose.

"Is there anything else Gina?"

She shook her head while glancing down at her hands. After a short silence she raised her face towards the young lawyer.

"Have you heard how Marshal Dillon is doing?" She asked after a long pause.  
"Not really. I don't think Doc knows yet from what I've heard." He stood up from the chair he had been occupying, gathered his notes and placed them in an old leather brief case that had certainly seen better days. "Now, I need to go and do a little reading. I think the judge will plan to start early tomorrow and I need to be prepared. We will probably be last on the docket so you will have time to get ready. I'll come and see you before it's our turn."

Once Pascoe had left, Gina sat looking out the window. The room faced the street and she watched as people on foot or horseback and even in wagons, came and went as freely as they chose. She wondered if she would have that freedom ever again. Looking up she watched the few clouds passing across the evening sky and thought that if she went to prison she would miss such simple pleasures. She had been crazy to think that someone like Johnny Halstead, with all his fancy dreams, could bring her happiness. She sat there watching and thinking, there wasn't much else for her to do right now. Doug would be along with her supper soon, and she looked forward to that.

xxx

It was late in the afternoon before the stage from Wichita pulled in at the depot and Judge Lucius C. Brooking stepped off onto the boardwalk. A young man wearing a marshal's badge came out of the crowd towards him. Brooking had heard that Dillon had been injured and Dodge had a temporary Marshal, he hoped this man would be able to run the court session as efficiently as his friend Matt usually did.

Hamilton walked the Judge across to the Dodge House where a room had been reserved for him. The man didn't say much and Doug began to feel somewhat inadequate, he had had so little experience at running a trial - especially one where his own wife was one of the accused.

Brooking stopped on his way up the stairs and looked back at the Hamiltonl.

"I am somewhat fatigued by the stagecoach journey from Wichita so I will meet you at that restaurant across the street, Delmonico's I believe it is called, in two hours time. We will eat and then discuss tomorrows proceedings."

"Yes Sir, certainly."

The Judge continued on up the stairs to his room and Doug tried to recover his composure. He hadn't got much information out of Matt that morning, all his friend had told him was to rely on Chester, he knew how things worked. He was deeply concerned that Matt had hardly been able speak more than a few words. His friend was so pale and drawn and barely had the strength to lift his head, it was nothing like the Matt Dillon he knew. That man was tall and straight and strong as a tree, he could ride all day, tackle three or more outlaws single handed and outgun the fastest gunslinger. Would he ever see that man again?

Chester had told him that the Judge liked Antelope Stew at Delmonico's, and yes Mr. Dillon usually paid for the meal. Sometimes he would take money from the petty cash in the safe to cover it if his own paycheck had not arrived from Washington. Chester said he knew how to set up the courtroom and would take care of that early in the morning. Judge Brooking would expect Hamilton to give him brief outline of the cases to be presented the following morning. Usually the Judge and Mr. Dillon would discus them in the marshal's office, but sometimes in the Dodge House.

Somehow Doug managed to get through supper with the Judge. They left Delmonico's and walked to the Marshal's office. The aciting marshal was wondering how he was going to tell the judge about Gina, the man seemed so aloof and formidable that he had no idea how to start that conversation.

He opened the door into the office and allowed the Judge to walk in ahead of him. He watched as the man looked around.

"I have sat in this office many times with Marshal Dillon, how is he doing?"  
"Doc says he has a fifty fifty chance, Sir. I saw him this morning and he talked for a little while but was very weak."

"I would like to see him if possible, maybe you could ask Dr. Adams for me. Tell me how Miss Russell is holding up?"

Hamilton was surprised, he had no idea how Judge Brooking knew of the relationship between Matt and Kitty.

"She's managing, Judge. I know that she sits with him everyday and often at night as well."

" I want to make time to visit with her during my time in Dodge."

"Yessir, I will let her know,"

" Now Marshal I want you to tell me about the cases coming before me tomorrow. Let us go across to my room, I imagine you have the prisoners locked up back there." He indicated the door to the cells." Hamilton did not reply to that, Gina was in a room over the Long Branch and he hoped the Judge would understand.

xxx

The conversation started easily. Hamilton recounted the charges against Halstead, Etheridge and Art Fox. Then he got to Gina. How to tell the Judge that his wife was involved in trying to get him convicted of murder, how she tried to get the reward money from the bounty hunter to use so she could run away with Johnny Halstead. Finally he took a breath

"Your honor I don't think I should discuss the final case with you. It concerns my wife."  
"I heard about that, Doug." The judge suddenly became very human. "I understand Daniel Pascoe is going to defend her. I will talk with him. Now I need to turn in for the night, tomorrow we will start at 9 o'clock. I presume everything will be ready."

"It will be Judge."

"And don't forget to talk to Dr Adams, I really want to see Marshal Dillon before I leave."

"I'll arrange it for you."

Hamilton began to feel that Judge Brooking had a human side under his severe outer skin. " I love her very much," he managed to say before he got up and left the room wondering how he could have said those words to the Judge.

xxx

Gina was not sure how much time had passed when there was a knock on her door, followed by a key turning in the lock. She thought at first it was Doug with her evening meal, he usually came and sat with her while she ate, but the footsteps were all wrong. The door finally opened and Chester appeared carrying a tray covered with a checkered cloth.

"I brought your supper Mrs. Gina. Mister Hamilton had to take Judge Brooking to supper and asked me to check on you and tell you he'd be here as soon as he could."

She had been waiting to see Doug all day and was disappointed to see the jailer, but she had decided, if she ever got the opportunity to be with her husband again, from that point on Doug's job would come first. No harm in starting now.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Doc's Dilemma

Chapter 8

Doc had got back to town quite late that evening. He heard low voices as he opened the door to his office and knew that Kitty and Matt were having a quiet conversation. He hated to break it up but knew Kitty had to go to work and he needed to check on his patient. It had been eight days now and the Marshal was still alive despite the odds. He checked the coffee pot which was cold so helped himself to a dipper of water before going through the door into the back room.

Kitty smiled at him as he entered, an honest smile saying that all was well. He looked at Matt who, for the first time since he had been brought back to Dodge, had a little color in his face that was not due to fever.

"Looks like you've been doing a good job with our patient while I've been gone," he quipped as he set his bag down on the table by the window. "Have you eaten anything today Matt?"

The Marshal ignored the question.

"Look Doc it's time I was up and around. There is no way Doug can handle that trial by himself tomorrow."

Doc let him have his say - partly to see how much strength he had and was surprised that Matt managed to get about three sentences out before giving up. Kitty looked up at the physician, raising her eyebrows in question.

"I told him what I thought your answer would be, but he didn't listen."

"He must be getting better," the Doctor growled. "Go on home Kitty I'll take over now, I can see he is going to be more trouble than ever tonight."

It was about an hour later, Adams had checked Matt's vital signs and changed the dressing covering his chest wound.

"Well Doctor?" Matt asked.

The physician rubbed a hand across his face, then removed the spectacles he had been wearing and put them back in their case. He pulled up a chair and sat as close to the bed as possible. Silence hung in the air for a moment while the physician took a breath and organized his words.

"Matt, I want you to listen to me very carefully, right now you are a very lucky man. You took a bullet so close to the lung that by all accounts you shouldn't be alive and if you don't believe me I can bring you the journals I've been reading."

"Doc I don't want to study medicine, I need to get up out of this bed and do my own job."

"No…no..I can't let you do that for a while." The physician shook his head and locked eyes with his patient.

"You said yourself that the wound was healing up fine."

"And it is - in a few more days there will be no need for a dressing, but it's not the outside that concerns me. I don't know how long it will take for your lung to heal and I am not taking any chances with that. If you have not had any fever or bleeding by this time tomorrow, I'll let you get up and sit in a chair for a while. No walking around or running up and down Front Street, understand? No matter what happens out there, you are staying right here for several more days.

Matt understood alright, once he got some clothes and was up and out of this bed he planned, as usual, to ignore his personal physician's advice. Maybe he could even help Doug with the trial.

xxx

The night was quiet for Doc. He had heard his patient coughing just one time and had got up from the spare cot where he had been resting, to check. Matt was still sound asleep and he saw no blood so did not try to wake him. As far as he could tell the man had no fever and was sleeping normally. He hardly dared to hope that he had managed to save his friend's life as he went back to sleep himself.

In the morning Kitty arrived early with a breakfast basket with enough food to feed all three of them. They sat eating around the bed in Doc's back room, Matt obviously itching to get up and start moving around. He even went as far as asking what time the judge was planning to start court this morning.

"It doesn't matter what time he starts because you are going to be right here." The Doctor had just finished his last bite of breakfast and was using his fork to emphasize his words. Kitty followed Doc's words with a look of her own.

xxx

It was barely daylight when Chester and three men from the town began setting up the make shift courtroom at the Dodge House. The jailer had done this many times before and knew how Mr. Dillon and Judge Brooking liked things arranged. The last piece of furniture moved was the large table from Mr. Dolby's office. It would serve as the judge's bench and they had just finished setting it in place when Marshal Hamilton arrived. Chester couldn't help but notice how worried the man looked and from his eyes he guessed he hadn't slept much last night. He took a moment to glance up at the big clock on the wall. Judge Brooking would be here any minute if he followed his usual schedule.

"How does Marshal Dillon usually organize this, Chester?" Doug had been unable to eat breakfast because his stomach was in a turmoil. The day he had been dreading had arrived and he felt alone. The fate of his beautiful Gina, and therefore his future, were hanging in the balance.

"He has me bring the prisoners over one by one when their case comes up, that way he can stay in the courtroom to maintain order if necessary." Hamilton nodded.

People were already beginning to file in and take the seats that had been placed there for any one who wanted to watch the trial.

"You'd better go get Halstead and bring him over. The Judge said he wanted him to be up first."

Chester left and in a few minutes Judge Brooking entered the courtroom and everyone one stood until he was seated and tapped his gavel. Brooking always ran a quiet and orderly trial and was not averse to fining anyone who tried to disrupt that. He looked around to see that everyone had settled down and then gave his speech about maintaining order in the courtroom and the consequences that would be metered out for infractions.

xxx

Halstead was standing before the Judge's table while Brooking took his time read through his signed confession. There was no prosecuting attorney and so it was up to the Judge to question the ranch hand.

"Mr. Halstead in this confession you admit you killed Dirk Williams, the so called bounty hunter, and stole the reward of $2500 that he had earned, justly and within the law I might add. You also claimed that a Mr. Elton Etheridge of Garden City, whom I believe will be appearing later, put you up to implicating the City Marshall. You say there was also a woman, Mrs. Gina Hamilton who gave you information as to where Marshal Hamilton and Mr. Dirk Williams would be meeting. Is all of this correct?"

"No Judge, that Marshal Dillon was threatening me. He as much as told me he'd kill me if I didn't sign it. I didn't want to write all that stuff down. I just did it because I was scared, none of its true, it wasn't anything to do with me."

There was a rumbling of voices throughout the court room. Although most people in Dodge appreciated the US Marshal being there to keep peace in the town, there were always those who felt that his efforts cramped their style.

The Judge rapped his gavel and demanded silence, then looked at the prisoner with his stern, withering gaze.

"Where there any witnesses to this threat?" He asked, after an uneasy silence.

"I guess not Judge, he's too clever for that." Halstead was shuffling his feet and looking at the floor to avoid the judges piercing eyes.

Brooking turned to Hamilton, "Do you know anything about this Marshal?"

"No Sir I never saw anything like that."

Judge Brooking considered what he had heard and quickly understood that each of the accused would try to blame the others for their actions. He needed to get them all together to sort this out. He also wanted to talk with Dillon - he could well believe that the Marshal had persuaded the man to write a confession because his friend Hamilton's life had been on the line, but at the same time Matt had a good instinct for the law and if he thought the man was guilty it was almost certain that he was, even if the court couldn't prove it.

After a few minutes consideration, he asked Hamilton to approach the bench and dismissed everyone else for a thirty minute recess. Sometimes things ran smoothly in the courtroom and the legal process was short. This was not going to be one of those days.

As the people filed out of the Dodge House he asked Hamilton to have all four of the prisoners back in the court room in thirty minutes. He needed to talk to Marshal Dillon.

xxx

Kitty had left Doc's office - there was a new whisky drummer coming in on the morning stage and she needed to see what he had to sell. Doc was still reluctant to leave Matt by himself, but since he had plenty of work to do around the office it was no problem for him to stay there. He was pleased that his patient had eaten some breakfast and seemed more himself, but he could see that he was tired now that the meal was over. He went to the bed and helped Dillon sit forward a little so he could remove a couple of the pillows that had been propping him up so that he could eat.

"You need to lay there and rest for a while now Matt. Kitty's going to be busy for an hour or two, so I suggest you use the time to sleep." He briefly checked his patient then walked to his front office, closing the door behind him. He could hardly believe that his friend was doing so well. Certainly they were not out of the woods yet and he was experienced enough to know that one small setback now could be disastrous, but he had reason to hope.

He sat at the old desk that was here in the office when he had arrived in Dodge several years ago. It had presumably belonged to the physician who rented these rooms before he arrived. Deep in thought he ran his hand over the smooth, worn wood, then coming back from his thoughts, reached for the ledger book with grey frayed edges. This was where he kept a record of all the babies he delivered and he had three to enter. He had just finished writing up the last one and looked up at the sound of footsteps climbing the outside stairs. Anxious that no one should come in making a lot of noise to disturb the Matt he went to open it. There stood his long time friend Judge Brooking.

"This is a pleasure," Doc said greeting the man with a warm handshake, "come in, Lucius, I'll make some coffee - unless of course you'd prefer something a little stronger."

"No Galen, I'm actually here on business. I need to talk to Matt, and I've only got a few minutes."

Doc showed him into the back room, "He's resting right now but you can try, provided you don't tire him out."

Doc found Dillon half asleep and touched him lightly on the shoulder so as not to startle him.

"Matt you've got company, Judge Brooking has some questions for you."

The Marshal opened his eyes, blinking several times before the situation dawned on him.  
"Judge Brooking?" He tried to sit up, but found that Doc's hand was stronger.

"Don't get up Matt." Brooking was shocked to see how pale and weak the Marshal seemed. He hadn't realized, up till now, how serious an injury this had been. He glanced quickly at Adams to confirm that it was all right to go ahead, the Doctor gave a brief nod.

"A question arose regarding Halstead. He says that you threatened him with all kinds of bodily harm and made him write and sign that confession under duress. He claims that none of it is true."

"Oh," Matt thought for a moment. "I wouldn't say I threatened him Judge, I may have encouraged him a little."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

Matt tried to cast his mind back to that evening when they had caught Johnny Halstead in Gina's hotel room. He remembered how angry he had been because of all that his friend Doug Hamilton had been through. Maybe he had struck the man, he just couldn't remember and the more he tried to think the more difficult it became.

Doc's experienced eye could tell that his friend was having trouble.

"Judge, I really don't think he is up to much more right now. That was a bad wound and he lost a lot of blood."

Brooking frowned at first, then decided it was just as well. If Matt had been well enough to recount what had happened that night, he might have to support Halstead's story. As it was he could honestly tell the court there was no credible evidence that the confession had been written under any form of threat. All the same he would have to change his approach a little.

"I understand Doctor." He turned to the man in the bed, "I have enough help to see this case through, Matt, and I have doubts about how much good your half remembered testimony would do. I advise you to follow Doctor Adam's instructions, and remain here until he thinks you are recovered enough to leave." He was just about to turn and go when he had another thought, "Consider that an order from the bench," he added and gave a conspiratorial nod to the Physician.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Doug Hamilton had all four prisoners assembled in the courtroom by the time Judge Brooking returned. As a precaution he had Chester standing along one side of the Dodge House lobby with a Winchester Rifle and Jed Bowman, similarly armed, standing by the double doors of main entrance that opened onto Front Street. When the Judge had taken his seat Pascoe stepped forward and identified himself saying that he was acting as Mrs. Hamilton's counsel.

The Judge then called Hamilton to the bench and told him he was going to hear Gina's case first and if he, Hamilton, wanted to leave he could, but if he stayed he could make no comment unless directly asked. Doug said he understood and elected to stay.

Pascoe started by explaining to the court that his client was willing to take the stand, but that he wanted to summarize her part in this awful affaire before she answered questions because as a young woman she was likely to be intimidated by men like Halstead and Etheridge and he thought they might exert some influence over her even here in the court room. The very appearance of the young lawyer showed his youth and inexperience and so Brooking decided to let the young man go ahead.

Daniel T Pascoe thanked the judge for his kind consideration then turned and faced the jury and spectators who filled the hotel lobby. His quiet air of diffidence as he began to speak had everyone listening intently.

"Your Honor, gentlemen of the Jury" he began, suddenly his unassuming nature vanished, he was on a stage playing another part, his voice was persuasive and his words believable .

"Mrs. Hamilton, was a young bride who came from a hard working Italian family," he had decided to throw that in because he had found out that several of the jurors were from Italian stock. His uncle had taught him well - always research your enemy, know them better than your friends, he had told him many times. "She married young and never understood how much time her devoted husband would be forced to spend away from home because of his very demanding job as Deputy Marshal in the Pueblo region of Colorado." He paced back and forth in front of the Jury as he spoke, trying to look each of them in the eye in turn. "She started finding interests outside the home, such as women's groups and Church functions, but missed the comforts that only a husband could provide." He took a calculated pause here while the Jury could look at the demure young woman with the dark well groomed flowing hair held back by an inexpensive simple clasp. Her dress was high in the neck and long in the sleeve, extremely modest but designed to show the outlines of her youthful figure. He took a breath and continued, getting well into his performance now.

"After seeing what these long separations were doing to his beautiful young wife, Marshal Hamilton decided to take the position of City Marshal in Garden City so that he could spend more time at home. Even so, in the course of his duties, he was forced to spend periods of time away from home. Douglas Hamilton, gentlemen, is an upright and honest lawman. Like your Marshal Dillon here in Dodge City he did his best to uphold the intent of the law and maintain peace and order so that regular citizens of the town could go about their daily activities without fear or coercion. This is what led to Mrs. Hamilton's downfall. There were those in the community who found the City Marshal's enforcement of city ordinances too strict, his efforts to keep the city peaceful and honest limited their money making schemes. They decided to rid themselves if him and the easiest way to do so was to get this innocent young lady to betray him. In this trial you may hear about things she is purported to have done, but remember she was being directed by a force more powerful than her own mind. An experienced man like Mr. Halstead here, would have no problem playing with the affections of such an innocent young woman in order to achieve his ends, and those of Mr. Elton Etheridge."

Pascoe waited a moment for the full effect of his words to sink in, then turned to the Judge.

"That is all I have to say for the moment your honor."

Brooking looked at the young man and concluded that whoever had taught him his skills had done a good job. The young man was a talented advocate.

There being no prosecuting attorney in this case it was up to the Judge to ask questions that would get to the truth. He called Gina to the stand and asked her a few simple questions, which she answered honestly, maybe missing out a few minor details that Pascoe had told her not to mention unless specifically asked.

Judge Brooking was more interested in hearing her testimony as to what part Halstead and Etheridge played in the whole affair. She told him how Halstead knew the time and place of the meeting between her husband and the bounty hunter, she had not known of its significance when she had casually mentioned it. He went on to enquire about the evidence she and Halstead had planted to try to convict her husband.

Pascoe stepped forward, "If your honor pleases, I would like to point out that the evidence of which you speak was never formally recognized by the court. There is no law against dropping buttons on the prairie or faking foot prints if it comes down to that. I would like to suggest that the aforementioned evidence should be declared void 'ab initio'."

The judge looked at the young attorney, his esteem for the man growing by leaps and bounds. He thought a moment or two.

"On certain grounds I tend to agree with you Mr. Pascoe, on the other hand the intent to manipulate the course of justice was there and that, even you must admit, is a felony in the eyes of the law."

"As it pleases your honor." Pascoe was good at standing his ground but showing due deference to the Judge at the same time. It did not show on his face but Brooking couldn't help but admire the young man's spirit.

The trial pushed on. Brooking wanted to get it finished in one day, there was always a possibility that he could then find time to go fishing with his good friend Galen Adams before he had to head on to his next stop on the circuit.

He moved on to Halstead. Now that Gina Hamilton had clearly described the part he played in the whole affair there was little he could do to deny it. He did however try his best to share the blame with Etheridge, telling how the saloon owner paid him to get City Marshal Hamilton out of the way so he could run his illegal gambling business more effectively.

Etheridge of course, claimed to be a respectable banker. yes he did own an interest in the Aces Wild saloon, but none of the other things had been true. Of course when Judge Brooking asked Hamilton about Etheridge's business practices, much of what Halstead had said about the man seemed to be confirmed.

Art Fox, when it came to his turn was not a brave man. He did admit that Etheridge had paid him, or at least was going to pay him and his partner, Pete Trammel, to get him safely out of Garden City and avoid being arrested by Marshal Hamilton. It had been Pete who shot Marshal Dillon, he had nothing to do with that, he wouldn't go so far as to bushwhack a lawman.

Judge Brooking was not convinced that Fox was telling the entire truth, but there was little he could do to persuade him further.

He invited Pascoe to say a few words about his client's part in all this complicated mess, then instructed the jury that although they had heard all the accused together in this court room, they were to consider each case individually. He briefly went over the charges against each man - and Mrs. Hamilton, then allowed them to retire to reach their verdicts.

It was two hours before everyone was reassembled in the Dodge House lobby. There was a lot of interest in the town concerning the verdicts that would be reached and the room was crowded to bursting point. As usual Judge Brooking had no difficulty maintaining order in the courtroom. The threat of fines and imprisonment went a long way towards keeping the spectators subdued.

Will Fowler, a long time resident of Dodge City had been elected foreman of the jury and he stood up to read the verdicts they had reached from a sheet of paper that he held in his hand.

Johnny Halstead, they had no doubt, was guilty of murdering Dirk Williams and although Elton Etheridge had not pulled the trigger they pronounced him guilty of conspiring to murder the bounty hunter and discrediting Marshal Hamilton, then trying to get a lynch mob to go after him.

Fowler admitted they had difficulty deciding about Art Fox. His part was less clear - he had definitely planned to accept money to help Etheridge avoid arrest but they were not sure he had any part in the shooting of Marshal Dillon.

As for Gina Hamilton, the only thing they thought proven against her was trying to influence the course of Justice, and of course being a male jury they had a deep understanding for the sweet young woman before them and appealed for leniency on her behalf.

The Judge retired for an hour to consider the verdicts and sentencing. When he returned from his chambers - Mr. Dolby's office - he had a serious look as he surveyed the courtroom.

After he took his seat behind the large table, there was a scraping of chairs as everyone else in the room sat. There was an uncanny silence. With so many people in the room there should be some coughing or whispered voices, but nothing, just stony silence as the whole town held its breath awaiting the sentencing.

He asked for the accused to come forward and stand before the bench. Chester urged the men to their feet and moved them to the front of the courtroom. Pascoe stood and took Gina by the arm and stood beside her as she faced the Judge and her future. She appreciated his support, her stomach was in such a turmoil of fear that she probably could not have stood there unaided.

"John Halstead." the Judge began, "You have been found guilty of murder of Dirk Williams, a bounty Hunter, and are hereby sentenced to death by hanging."  
Elton Etheridge could hardly believe what he heard. The little man visibly began to shake. This could not be happening to him. The Judges eyes fell upon him and they were dark and unforgiving. "No, No, please Judge." he cried with a trembling voice. He started to fall to his knees but Chester was there and prodded him back up into a standing position with his rifle barrel.

"Elton Etheridge,"Judge Brooking began "I think of all of those standing in front of me today, you are the worst. A man was murdered because of your greed, a hard working City Marshal was almost wrongly put to death and Marshal Dillon was gravely injured. I find no redeeming factors in your story. You have been found guilty of conspiracy on all those counts and I hereby sentence you to death by hanging." The little man almost collapsed as the words were spoken and Hamilton pushed a chair under him to prevent his falling to the floor.

"As to you Art Fox, for your part in all this you will go to prison for ten years."

Finally he looked at Gina Hamilton. She looked frail but at the same time had a strength in her dark eyes that told him she would survive what he was about to hand down to her.

"Gina Hamilton, you have been found guilty of trying to divert the course of justice. Maybe your involvement in this scheme was more than that but there is no way to prove it. You will go to prison for 12 months."

Brooking banged his gavel on the table as a general murmuring went around the courtroom.

"Silence," he demanded. When the room quieted he spoke to Hamilton.

"Marshal you can remove the prisoners."

Five minutes later the whole ordeal was over and the towns people filed out of the Dodge House.

Epilog

It was early evening, the trial was over and a small group of people gathered in Doc's office discussing the outcome. Doc had finally relented and let Matt get up from the bed to sit in a chair. Kitty had brought his clothes but as per Doc's instructions, definitely not his boots.

Matt was surprised how weak he felt when he finally got to his feet and found he needed a lot of help to get to the chair. His chest still hurt but there was no way he would admit that to the Physician who kept a very professional eye on his patient.

"So Doug how are you planning to handle this, " Matt asked, having heard about the verdicts and sentences handed down.

"I'm taking Halstead and Etheridge to Hays City in a few days time. They are sending escorts for Art Fox and Gina and I will wait until they have left before I go." His voice dropped as he mentioned his wife's name.

"A year won't seem so long, Doug," Kitty added as she reached over to touch him on the arm.

"It could have been lot worse," Doug agreed, "I have to thank Daniel here for that. You should have heard him Matt, he was brilliant."

Daniel T Pascoe blushed and tried to downplay his part.

Kitty looked directly at him, "From what I heard, your uncle should be proud of you. Even Judge Brooking said he thought you had a great future."

"Just glad to help," the embarrassed young attorney mumbled.

There was silence for a few minutes and Doc refilled the whisky glasses of the few who had been drinking.  
"I have some news Matt," Doug Hamilton broke the silence. "The Marshal's service has made me a full marshal and offered me a jurisdiction of my own. When I finish here I will head to Montana and set up an office in the town of Bozeman in the southwestern part of the territory. It is still a pretty wild land up there but the town is growing steadily and they think there will be a big influx of people in a few years time when the railroad arrives. Already there has been somewhat of a population boom for the mining. Montana will become a state in the next few years just wait and see. I know it doesn't sound like much right now, but it is something I can build on. Gina is quite happy about it and says when her year is up she'll be happy to live anywhere, if I am with her. At least there is a lot of good fishing up there and land is still cheap so I can build a nice home for her to come back to. The grazing is good for cattle and horses too, so maybe I can run a small ranch on the side and I think it will be a good place for us to raise a family."

Dillon was proud of what his friend had accomplished

"I'm happy for you Doug, I know you will do a great job. Of course you will have to get used to some pretty harsh winters up there, but maybe the summer time will be easier. I hear they are beginning to move Cattle up the Bozeman Trail from Texas and many of the old Forts have been re opened to protect settlers traveling that route by wagon. There could be some busy times ahead for you."

"I can handle it. Whatever it is it can't be worse than these last few weeks. I thought about trying to appoint Jed as my deputy if he'd like to join me. The population in Montana is sparse right now but the area to cover is enormous, so I think I can justify it to the powers in Washington."

There was silence for a few moments during which Matt was formulating a plan to leave the confines of the Doctor's office.

"What about Dodge while you're away, Doug? It'll take you better part of a week to escort those two prisoners up to Hays and make your way back."

"I thought I'd leave Jed here. I think between him and Chester, they should manage."

"You may need to take Jed with you. Halstead and Etheridge have nothing to lose, it won't be an easy trip."

'I can manage, besides I'll enjoy the time alone on the way back."

Matt could understand that, even so he wanted Jed to accompany the new Marshal, that way he would have a good excuse to get out of Doc's clutches.

xxx

it was a bitter sweet evening before the escorts came to take Fox and Gina. Gina had become very philosophical about it. "The sooner I start serving my sentence, Doug, the sooner we will be back together. It will give me time to think and figure out where I went wrong. I know now how much you mean to me and we will appreciate it all the more when we are back together."

Doug was amazed how much insight she had gained during her two weeks in Dodge City and knew part of that was because of the long talks she had had with Kitty. Kitty understood only to well the times of stress and loneliness that came from being committed to a lawman. Maybe now Gina understood them too and would find it easier to accept. He walked with her to the Santa Fe that final morning and gave her a farewell kiss, she knew he would be waiting for her the day she was freed. She boarded the train along with Fox and the two lawmen sent to take them to prison. Doug stood watching as the locomotive belched forth steam and soot until its wheels began to turn, slowly, grudgingly at first, and then pick up speed. He stood there till all he could see was the tail of smoke way off in the distance. At last he was able to turn around and make his way back to the office. He had a job to do and that was as much a sentence as her incarceration. He would be there for her, always.

End


End file.
